


Ice Ice Baby

by areyoucoldflash (hellosterek)



Series: Earth 3 [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Child Abuse, Consensual Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Violence, Public Hand Jobs, minor PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:31:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 68,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5838121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellosterek/pseuds/areyoucoldflash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a wedding right around the corner, Barry accompanies Iris to a local bakery to help pick out a cake. One thing leads to another and Barry ends up getting a lot more attached to the bakery's cake than anticipated. Who can really blame him if he goes back later for more? </p><p>And if there's a hot baker that works there...well, that's just a bonus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cake And Tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was partially inspired by [Tumbling Together by RedHead](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4119645/chapters/9285606). There are other influences thrown in here sporadically as well. If you find any fic references in any chapters, try to guess and I'll tell you if you're right! ;)

Barry was late. Barry was late and that really shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, except this time he was going to be on the receiving end of Iris’s wrath. He swore as he dashed through the street, skirting around people trying to make it to work or school or meetings on time. He wasn’t even one of them, but he was late. So late.

 

Narrowly avoiding kneeing a small girl in the face, Barry finally rounded the corner and stumbled through a glass door. He checked his watch. Shit. He was so late.

 

Iris turned to him when he came in, her hands firmly on her hips as she scrutinized him with narrowed eyes. “Barry, you’re almost an hour late.”

 

“I know,” he huffed heavily. “I know, I’m sorry. I got--”

 

“You better have a good excuse for me later, Barry Allen,” she snapped. “You made us late for our appointment.”

 

“I know. Iris, I--”

 

“I mean, seriously, Barry?” she continued angrily, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper, “How are you so late when you can move as fast as you can?”

 

Barry rolled his eyes and put his hands on her shoulders to stop her. He gave her a meaningful stare and smiled. “Iris, I’m sorry, but I got caught up booking the hall by the waterfront.”

 

Iris opened her mouth, no doubt ready to continue chastising him for his inability to arrive on time, but she quickly closed it, then opened it again. “I thought they were  already booked?”

 

He shrugged. “Yeah, about that...I may have had to pull a few strings. Don’t expect a wedding present from Oliver.”

 

Iris squealed and she launched forward, her arms going around his neck in a tight hug. “Barry Allen, you are amazing!”

 

Barry chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. “I also got the florist covered. Apparently Laurel has been wanting to start a business or something. She promises to put together whatever you want as long as you spread the word about her.”

 

Iris’s arms tightened around him, and he really did not think that was possible with how small she was. “Oh, Barry, thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!”

 

Barry grinned and pulled back with a shrug. “Hey, it’s no problem. You only get married a handful of times, right?”

 

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m hoping it’s only once.” She checked her phone with a sigh. “Come on, we’re already late. Hopefully he can still fit us in.”

 

Oh, right. Cake tasting. He’d almost forgotten.

 

Following Iris into the quaint bakery, Barry took a moment to get his bearings. The place wasn’t as extravagant as he was expecting, nor was the place a dump. If he had to describe it, he’d probably say the place...well, the place felt like home. Welcoming, warm, and smelling of fresh baked goods. His mouth was watering already.

 

When they rang the bell on the counter, a disgruntled older man came out of the kitchen, looking less than impressed. He wiped his flour-covered hands on the tea towel hanging over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow in question, looking between the two of them like he was waiting for someone to speak.

 

Iris smiled. “Hi, I’m Iris West. I have an appointment?”

 

The man stared at her and Barry wondered if he even heard her. He was about to repeat what she said when the man grunted, “You’re late.”

 

Iris laughed nervously. “Yeah, sorry. I completely understand if you’re too busy to see us. It’s just--” She motioned to Barry. “--Barry was running late and I couldn’t pick the cake on my own because I’m sure I’ll end up liking them all--”

 

The man’s judgmental gaze slid over to Barry, eyeing him from head to toe, and Barry felt a little hot under the collar. He offered the man a weak smile, reaching up to undo the top button of his button-up shirt because it suddenly felt like it was hot in there. And were those tattoos along the baker’s arms? He almost hadn’t noticed them underneath all the flour.

 

After a moment of Iris’s rambling, the man returned to the kitchen without a word, leaving them standing there alone. Barry exchanged an uncertain look with Iris. Were they getting the cold shoulder for being late or was this just a man of few words?

 

The man came back moments later, carrying a platter of cake slices. He set the platter on the counter and motioned toward the bar stools beside them, handing them a couple of forks.

 

“Thank you,” Iris said honestly, her smile a bit tentative. “It really means a lot to me that you could fit us in. I know it’s a lot to ask--”

 

“Anything for a soon-to-be married couple,” the man stated curtly, returning to the kitchens.

 

Barry’s forkful of red velvet cake paused and he stared at the kitchen door, his eyes going wide. He looked at Iris. “Does he think--?”

 

She laughed. “I think so.” She took a bite of the white chocolate and raspberry cake and moaned. “Oh my god.”

 

Barry shook his head at her, always amused by her love of desserts. However, as soon as he finished spooning the bite of red velvet into his mouth, he found himself doing the same.

 

“Iris, this is the best red velvet I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured around the bite.

 

Iris stole a bite of it and hummed in agreement.

 

Barry pulled the rest of the slice toward him, protecting it with his arm. “I’m eating the rest of this.”

 

Iris laughed. “Barry, we’re supposed to be trying all of them, not just one.”

 

“I will,” Barry defended, shoving another bite into his mouth. “I just, you know, want to make sure it’s the best.”

 

The baker came out from the kitchens with a rack of freshly baked goods to fill the displays and the smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies and eclairs made Barry’s mouth water, even as he shoved another bite of cake into his mouth. How had he never visited this place before?

 

He glanced at the prices on the wall and balked. Scratch that. He knew why. He leaned close to iris and whispered, “Have you checked the prices of this place? A little much to spend on cake, isn’t it?”

 

The baker glanced in their direction and Iris hushed Barry, leaning in to whisper, “I have and no, it’s not. Compared to other places, Leonard’s cakes are actually pretty good for the price.”

 

Leonard? Was that the guy’s name? Yikes. Almost as bad as Bartholomew.

 

“Besides,” Iris continued, grinning and cutting into the slice of pink champagne. “Eddie’s parents offered to help pay for it.”

 

Barry rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh. Of course Iris would want top quality cake. She was a foodie with a love affair. The only thing Eddie had to worry about at the reception was Iris taking the cake and running. Although, he couldn’t really see that happening, no matter how good the cake tasted. He was pretty sure Iris loved Eddie more, which said a lot.

 

“So, lovebirds, what do you think?” Leonard asked them as he approached, seeming to be in a slightly better mood. Maybe they had interrupted his baking?

 

Iris laughed, motioning between her and Barry. “We’re not.”

 

“But the cakes are great!” Barry supplied quickly, maybe sounding a bit too enthusiastic by the amused look Leonard was giving him.

 

Leonard eyed the plate he was still guarding with his arm and raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve only tried one, Scarlet.”

 

Barry raised his eyebrows at the nickname, noticing Leonard’s eyes flick down to his shirt. Oh. Red button-up. Got it.

 

Regardless, he felt his ears turn pink. “Oh, uh, yeah? I have a bit of a weakness for red velvet.”

 

Leonard’s lips twitched, and Barry was pretty sure that was the closest he’d gotten to actually smiling.

 

The man turned his attention to Iris. “And you?”

 

Her smile brightened as she motioned to the cakes. “They’re all great.”

 

“But?” Leonard prompted, a glint in his eye. What did it take to get this man to smile, just once?

 

“But,” Iris echoed, pointing to one of the darker slices. “I especially liked the chocolate mousse.”

 

“What?” Barry asked around his last bite of cake. Not only was his red velvet loving heart scandalized, but when had she even tried that one?

 

Leonard side-eyed him, but quickly returned his attention to Iris. “Is that your choice?”

 

She nodded. “Yes, definitely.”

 

The man nodded before retreating through another door.

 

Barry swallowed the last bite of goodness and shook his head at his best friend. “Girl--” And, yeah, maybe he was spending too much time around Cisco. “--you just made a mistake because that was the best cake I’ve ever--”

 

Iris cut him off mid-sentence by shoving some of the chocolate mousse cake into his mouth, Leonard stepping out from the back just in time to catch Barry tipping his head back in a moan.

 

Barry narrowed his eyes at Iris, who was smiling triumphantly. “Evil.”

 

Leonard shook his head and handed Iris a sheet to fill out for the order. He leaned his hands on the counter and glanced at Barry, who’d resorted to picking crumbs of red velvet off the plate.

 

Leonard gnawed on the inside of his lip to catch his smile before it got away from him. “Hey kid.”

 

Barry froze, realizing what he was doing, and sat up straight. “Uh--”

 

“There’s another piece of that out back if you want it,” he offered, and wow, his eyes were really blue.

 

“Oh, thanks, but I can’t really--” he scratched at the back of his head, stopping himself. He didn’t really want to admit that he couldn’t afford it, but, well, the majority of his paycheck was going to Joe’s groceries. Ever since he became the Flash, he was going through more and more calories every day and he couldn’t really expect Joe to keep feeding him.

 

Leonard waved him off and disappeared into the kitchen.

 

What was up with that? Did he ever stand still? Or was it just them that he didn’t like being around? Maybe it was Barry, in general? It couldn't be Iris. She was too sweet.

 

Leonard came back only a minute later with a to-go box in his hand, setting it down in front of Barry. “It was gonna go to waste anyway.”

 

“Wow,” Barry eyed the box, his mouth already watering. He was going to savor this one. Every last bite. “Ah, thanks...Leonard?” He peeked up to see the man grimacing.

 

“Len,” he corrected, taking the form once Iris was finished. He glanced over it and nodded. “This is doable.”

 

“Awesome!” Iris chirped, glancing at Barry as he tentatively took the to-go box off the counter, as if he expected Len to snatch it back. She rolled her eyes at him. “Thanks again for getting us in late. Barry doesn’t really know how to be on time for anything.”

 

“Hey! I’m not always late,” Barry argued.

 

She narrowed her eyes and patted his chest. “Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that.”

 

Barry huffed and turned back to Len as he started following Iris out. “I’m really not.”

 

“You are!” Iris called as she walked out the door.

 

Barry followed after her, but glanced back at Len in time to catch his amused grin. And, really, that might have been better than the man’s red velvet cake.

 

Well, he did say might.

 

~*~

 

"Hey dad," Iris greeted when her and Barry got to Joe's for dinner. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek, offering him a cup of coffee from Jitters.  
  
"Hey baby," he accepted the coffee with a smile, glancing between the two of them as he took his first sip. "I expected you guys to be back hours ago."  
  
Iris shot Barry a look and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, so did I. Barry was late for the cake tasting."  
  
Joe raised an eyebrow, but chucked, eyeing the box in Barry's hands. "Were you so late that you had to buy the cake instead?"  
  
Barry followed his gaze and subconsciously hugged the box closer to him. "Uh, well, actually--"  
  
"No," Iris interrupted with a laugh. "Barry ended up flirting with the baker. I guess he was won over by Barry's unique charm."  
  
She grinned at him and continued into the kitchen, Joe following after her with a hum of understanding. Or was that a snort of amusement?  
  
Barry felt his face heat up. "Hey! I was not flirting!"

  
She turned and quirked an eyebrow at him as she got plates out of the cupboard. "Really, Barr? So all that moaning you did over his cakes was really just about his cake?"  
  
Joe raised his eyebrows, looking torn between being amused and wanting to be anywhere but a part of this conversation. He turned to look at Barry. "Really, son?"  
  
"It's good cake!" Barry justified, pointing at Iris accusingly. "You even said so yourself!"  
  
"Mm-hmm," she hummed, getting out the forks as Joe moved the Chinese takeout to the table. She gave Barry a pointed look. "But I'm not the one he gave free cake to."  
  
Joe glanced up. "Free cake, huh?" He made a contemplative expression as he put rice on his plate. "They do say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach."  
  
"I just really liked the cake!" Barry repeated, indignant. Okay, so yeah, maybe he liked a bit more than Len’s cake, but that didn't mean there was flirting involved. Right? That's not something that happened. He would have known.  
  
He sat down at his usual spot at the table, next to Iris and across from Joe. He set the cake beside his plate and eyed it long and hard, now contemplating its significance.  
  
Joe, who had been watching him, laughed. "Relax, Barr, we're messing with you." He pointed a fork at the box. "But you clearly made some sort of impression."  
  
Barry sighed, grabbing the nearest takeout container and spooning whatever it was onto his plate, his eyes drifting to the beige to-go box again. Damn it, this was all Iris’s fault.

~*~

After their family dinner, Joe headed into work for a night shift while Barry and Iris hunkered down on Iris’s old bed with a stack of photo albums.

 

“Aww, look at this one!” Iris cooed, pointing at a picture of the two of them curled up in each other’s arms, fast asleep.

 

Barry smiled sadly. He remembered that one. “That was the night you slept in my room because I couldn’t sleep.”

 

Iris looked at him, a sad smile gracing her lips. She put a hand over his. “That wasn’t very long after…”

 

He nodded, gaze falling to their hands. His lips twitched. “You were the only one who believed me, you know?”

 

He glanced up to find her watching him and felt all the old feelings come back to him. He had been so frustrated as a kid, knowing he’d seen a man in lightning kill his mother, but not having anyone believe him. He’d been so angry that everyone thought he was making it up, as if he’d needed something to replace the memory of seeing his father kill his mother. But Iris hadn’t thought that. Iris had believed him, had _always_ believedhim. He didn’t think she really understood just how much that meant to him.

 

She squeezed his hand. “Of course I believed you, Barry. You were the only one there that night, you knew what you saw.”

 

He remembered all of the nights he’d woken up screaming, his mother’s screams and his father's distraught resounding in his ears. Sometimes Joe was home to comfort him during the aftermath, but sometimes it was just Iris. And with Iris, Barry hadn’t been able to keep the words from flowing, from telling her exactly what happened in so much detail that even she began to believe it was true, that he really had lived through this nightmare. Joe had never believed him though and, eventually, Barry stopped talking to him about it. He didn’t stop talking to Iris though and Barry was grateful that she listened.

 

The two of them had gone through so much together — were still going through so much together — and Barry wasn’t sure what her getting married meant for their friendship. He couldn’t help but wonder how much would change once she was married and started a family of her own. Although he knew they’d always be friends, he was worried they would drift apart.

 

“Hey,” Iris said softly, squeezing his hand. “You know I’m always going to be here for you, right?”

 

He smiled weakly. Of course she knew what he was thinking. She always knew. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

 

“I mean it,” she stated more firmly. “Me marrying Eddie doesn’t change the fact that I care about you, Barr.”

 

He huffed out a small laugh and nodded, turning his hand over to link their fingers together. He looked into her eyes and was reminded of all those times he’d looked into them as a kid and thought he’d loved her. Those feelings hadn't exactly changed. He still loved her — still thought she was the kindest and most beautiful woman he’d ever met — but he wasn’t _in_ love with her. It was a platonic kind of love, a sibling kind of love.

 

She smiled and scooted closer, laying her head on his shoulder and eyeing their hands. “Do you remember how you used to sing me to sleep when I had a nightmare?”

 

Barry rested his chin on her head, hiding his face in her hair, and felt his cheeks burn. “Oh god, don’t remind me.”

 

She chuckled, pulling away to look at him with a wide smile. “You were so good at it, Barr! I don’t know why you ever stopped singing.”

 

He rolled his eyes dramatically and reached for the wine, pouring himself another glass and refilling Iris’s. He wished he had some of Caitlin’s concoction to mix into the drink, but he knew there wasn’t enough of it in the world to get Barry drunk enough for this conversation. His teenage years weren’t exactly something he enjoyed to look back on. He’d gone through a lot of phases as a kid, including theatre geek (something he’d actually been pretty good at), skater (something he’d been far too clumsy for), and gangster (something he would never, ever admit to). Eventually, he just settled for being himself and not worrying about where he fit in. It had taken him a while to reach that point though, college had been a big help with that.

 

“Can we maybe not talk about this?” he pleaded, settling back down next to her. His theatre days weren’t horrible, but they definitely weren’t something he wanted to revisit.

 

She laughed and sat up, turning to face him, eyes bright with an idea Barry knew he was going to hate. “You should sing at my wedding!”

 

Barry gave a loud, startled laugh. When he realized she wasn’t laughing, his face fell and he sat up a little straighter. “Wait, you’re serious?”

 

“Yes!” she answered, shaking the bed with her enthusiasm.

 

Barry held his glass of wine a little higher to keep it from spilling and shook his head. He really did not see how this was a good idea. It wasn’t. It was a horrible idea. “Absolutely not.”

 

He’d already booked the venue for the reception, hired a florist, and helped Iris pick out the wedding cake — okay, so maybe he wasn’t much help with that, but he'd done enough, hadn't he?

 

She pouted — and oh no, not the lip. She knew what that did to him.

 

Setting down her glass of wine, she grabbed his hand and scooted forward on her knees. “Barry…”

 

He winced. This was just cruel. “Iris…”

 

“It would really mean a lot to me if you sang at my wedding,” she stated slowly, her tone sickly sweet.

 

He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall. He chanced a look at her, took one look at her smile, and knew he was a goner. He let out an overdramatic sigh and nodded. “Fine.”

 

She squealed and launched toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 

He huffed and grimaced as some of his wine spilled on his shirt, but laughed despite himself and wrapped an arm around her. Iris repeatedly thanking him seemed to be a recurring theme today. If she hadn’t thought he was a good friend before… “I’m definitely going to regret this.”

 

She chuckled, pulling back. “Maybe, but our guests will get so much amusement out of it.”

 

He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his wine before she could spill any more. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe the things he did for his friends.

 

"So," Iris said after they'd settled down again. "Leonard."

 

Barry nearly choked on his wine and spluttered, turning to look at her. "Wha— What? What about him?"

 

She gave him a knowing look. "Are you going to see him again?"

 

He frowned. "I just met him once, Iris. I don't even know him."

 

"All the more reason to see him again," she pointed out, poking him in the ribs.

 

He squirmed away from her and slapped at her hand. "Stop that." When she didn't, he laughed. "Okay, okay! Fine! Maybe. I might see him again."

 

"Mhm," she hummed, taking a slow sip of her wine. "When?"

 

"I don't—" He sighed. "Iris, I'm not going to _plan_ it. It's not like I can afford to go get something from his bakery, so when am I ever going to see him?"

 

She grinned from behind her glass. "I think you could afford it if you wanted to. You said yourself that you need more red velvet cake in your life."

 

Barry blushed. Okay, yes, he  _had_ said that, but that — she didn't get to use that against him. He'd said it in the middle of eating his second slice of Len's _amazing_ red velvet cake. He'd practically been  _intoxicated_.

 

"Barr," Iris sighed, turning to face him fully. There was a rosy blush on her cheeks from the alcohol and Barry couldn't help but feel his heart warm at the sight. Even when she was terrorizing him, she somehow found a way to be endearing. "You need to get out more. Put yourself out there and go for it. How are you ever going to know if something will work if you don't try?"

 

He considered this for a moment. He'd put himself out there plenty of times in college and, while it'd been nice, nothing had ever really worked out for him. Back then, he'd still been hung up on Iris and those feelings tended to get in the way. He'd found himself searching for pieces of her in everyone he met. Of course, when compared to Iris, nobody measured up. Now, though, he was so consumed in being the Flash and keeping his secret that it was hard to manage his time. How could he let someone into that?

 

Iris's hand found his again and he glanced up at her. She smiled softly. "You deserve happiness too, Barry."

 

He nodded and relaxed back against the wall, averting his eyes to the ceiling. "Yeah, I know."

 

And he did know, but that didn't make this any easier. It didn't mean he wasn't still afraid of letting someone in. After everything with Wells — _Eobard_ — he was being careful of where he placed his trust. Even though he had amazing friends and an incredible family, he wasn't so sure he was ready to expand that social circle just yet. But maybe Iris had a point. Maybe it was time to try again. At least, that way, he'd know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughhhh, so I caved and posted this even though I promised myself I'd wait. But I've already got three chapters written, so I figured, why not? I'm too excited to keep this to myself. I love this story so much already and it's only just started.
> 
> This story may be updated even more sporadically than When Love Hurts because I'm committed to finishing that fic, but I keep finding myself writing this one into the wee hours of the morning more often, so we'll see which one gets finished first, I guess.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. It was a lot of fun to write!
> 
> PS. I promised myself I wouldn't name this fic "Ice Ice Baby" but when I realized it was a play on both Captain Cold and icing a cake, I couldn't resist. I'm sorta proud of it, actually. I blame the fandom for exposing me to so many puns. xD


	2. New Kids and Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry is insatiable, but Len...well, Len kind of enjoys it, actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeere's Lenny! (I hope at least one person gets this reference...maybe if I throw in an axe and a creepy smile, people will get it? Okay, sorry. Sorry. I'll stop so you can read.)

“Dudes, this is the best part!” Cisco announced, waving a Twizzler haphazardly toward Caitlin’s TV. “Wait for it, wait for it…”

 

Barry winced as a girl in the movie got drawn back into the shadows, blood splattering across the screen moments later.

 

“Oh, boo!” Caitlin jeered, throwing popcorn at the TV. “Why did she go that way? That was completely unrealistic!”

 

Cisco collapsed back in his seat with a blissful sigh. “The beauty of B-rated movies, man. Horrible effects, but classic horror.”

 

“I don’t see the appeal of slasher movies,” Caitlin stated simply, frowning at the screen as another idiot went in the wrong direction.

 

Cisco gasped, a hand over his heart. “Take it back!”

 

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “So much unnecessary gore.”

 

“Excuse you, it’s beautiful!” Cisco argued, and Barry just shook his head as the two of them continued to bicker about what they considered beautiful.

 

Things had been slow for Team Flash ever since they sent Eobard Thawne back through the timeline. Barry knew it was only a temporary fix to a much bigger problem, but at least they had managed to strip the man of his powers before sending him away. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be dealing with him for quite a while, if at all. For now, their only worries were the metahumans that were still appearing sporadically across Central City. With no real leader (yet, Barry acknowledged), a few of them accepted the help of S.T.A.R. Labs and teamed up with the Flash to help protect the city. Team Flash had grown to include Martin Stein, Jefferson Jackson, and Henry Hewitt. Most of them, however, were still in the process of being rehabilitated — something none of them had really figured out how to do successfully yet. The process was long and tedious, with a lot of stubborn participants, but they were making progress. _Slow_ progress.

 

“Barry?”

  

Barry turned his attention away from the movie and raised an eyebrow at Caitlin.

 

“What do you think?” she questioned, and he was really hoping they were still talking about B-rated movies because he really hadn’t been paying attention.

 

“Uh,” he muttered, gauging both of their expressions. Both of them looked like they would be deeply offended if he chose the other’s side in this debate, so he raised his hands in a shrug, “I plead the fifth?”

 

Cisco rolled his eyes and turned back to the movie. “Copout.”

 

Caitlin grinned, shaking her head, and got up to stretch. “Anyone want some hot cocoa?”

 

Cisco’s phone went off at that moment and everyone turned at the sound. Cisco glanced down at it with a frown. “Uh, might need to take a raincheck on that. There’s a break-in at the museum.” He rolled his eyes. "So much for a fun Friday night off."

 

Barry sighed, muttering “on it” before disappearing in a blink, getting his Flash suit from S.T.A.R. Labs, and going on his way to save the day.

 

Caitlin blew hair out of her face and plopped back down on the couch, pulling her laptop into her lap while Cisco grabbed his own. She glanced at the movie still playing on the TV and raised an eyebrow at Cisco. “Barry would have agreed with me, you know.”

 

Cisco scoffed, rolling his eyes and putting on his headset to connect with Barry. “Unlikely. He’s as much of a geek for this stuff as I am. He only pleaded the fifth to spare your feelings.”

 

She hummed, a small smile twitching at her lips as she put on her own headset. She doubted anyone could be as big of a geek as Cisco, but she wasn’t going to get into _that_ argument. “If you say so.”

 

Barry snorted over the comms, already dealing with the guys who had broken into the museum. “Really, guys?”

 

“Sorry,” the two said in unison.

  
Barry shook his head at their antics, but smiled as he tied up the hands of the would-be robbers. He really did love his friends...even if they were constantly bickering.

 

~*~

 

Len was just finishing up preparing things at the bakery for the morning when there was a knock on the front door. He furrowed his eyebrows and double checked that the eclairs would be ready to be thrown in the oven in the morning before he went out front. He eyed the door warily. Couldn’t whoever it was see that he was closed? The door was locked for a reason…

 

He stopped short when he saw who was peering through the glass, wearing a bright smile despite how tired he looked. Seriously?

 

He huffed and stalked toward the door, unlocking it and jerking it open. “Really, kid?”

 

“Oh,” the brunet chimed in amusement. “So, I’m kid now?”

 

Len’s teeth ground together as the kid shouldered his way past him. What was his name again? Bert? Barney? Big Bird?

 

“We’re closed,” he growled, turning sharply and leaving the door open. He was sort of hoping the kid would just leave so he wouldn’t have to kick his ass out. Although, if some part of him had to touch his ass...Len snubbed that line of thought and crossed his arms over his chest, angling for angry.

 

Scarlet — who wasn’t wearing red this time so Len couldn’t actually call him that — at least had the gall to smile sheepishly and scratch at the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry. I just — I — yeah, I can come back tomorrow.”

 

Len rolled his eyes. The kid was already here, he might as well get on with it. “What do you want?”

 

The kid’s eyes widened, and if Len just now realized what color they were, it was only because he didn’t have Iris there to distract him this time.

 

“Um, ah,” he stumbled, face and neck turning red. How was it even possible for someone to blush like that? Maybe Len could still call him Scarlet after all. “I was actually wondering if you—”

 

He paused and if Len didn’t know any better… “You trying to ask me out, Scarlet?”

 

The kid balked, his eyes going wide and his mouth going slack. And damn it, it was far too late and Len was far too tired to suppress the thoughts that brought to Len's mind. “Wha—? No!”

 

Ouch. Len would have been just fine with a quiet rejection, he didn’t really need the kid to scream in his face.

 

“I mean—” Scarlet was floundering, clearly mortified at himself, and Len very nearly took pity on him. Except he actually enjoyed watching the kid squirm. “—no. I — cake?”

 

The last word came out squeaked and Len couldn’t help but snort.

 

“Really?” he asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. “You came here at eleven o’clock at night...for cake?” He whistled low. “Didn’t realize you liked it that much, kid.”

 

Scarlet shrugged, his normally pale skin still living up to the nickname. “Yeah? I mean, I wasn’t lying when I said it was the best red velvet I’ve ever tasted.”

 

Len stayed silent for a moment, if only to watch the kid squirm some more, before walking toward the kitchen. He didn’t expect the kid to follow him and was a little relieved (and oddly disappointed) when he didn’t. Taking a tray of red velvet cupcakes from the rack, he placed a few of them into a to-go box. He would be lying if he said he didn’t make these with the kid in mind. But he would deny it anyway.

 

Scarlet was still standing in the same spot when Len came out of the kitchen, looking a little more unsure of himself. It was almost endearing, the way he curled in on himself like he'd only just realized he was somewhere he didn’t belong. Len rolled his eyes. Not only was the kid always late, he seemed to be a bit slow on the uptake too.

 

Len cleared his throat and Scarlet turned, wide eyes zeroing in on the box in Len’s hands. Len could see the exact moment the kid's mouth started to water as he opened his mouth to say, “Is that--?”

 

“Red velvet,” Len confirmed, holding back a smirk as the kid quickly approached the counter, eyes still on the box. If Len had known this was all it took to get an attractive man’s attention, he would have started baking years ago.

 

He set the box down, watching the kid’s fingers twitch, as if he was just itching to open the box. Before he could actually reach a hand out, Len slid the box out of his reach, gaining his attention. “Now, Scarlet, you can’t expect me to keep giving these out for free.”

 

He watched closely as the kid’s face fell a little. Had he really thought Len would just keep giving him free cake? This was a business and Len’s only source of income. And it paid well...when people actually paid.

 

“Tell you what,” Len drawled, edging forward. “We can make a deal.”

 

Scarlet looked skeptical and Len couldn’t contain his smirk. The kid had good instincts.

 

“You see, Scarlet,” Len continued, picking the box up and rounding the counter to get closer to him. “I’m a little short staffed at the moment and I may need some help around here.”

 

“What kind of help?”

 

“Not to worry,” Len stated, pressing the box into the younger man’s hands with a mischievous smirk. “Nothing too nefarious.”

 

~*~

 

Barry’s mouth dropped open in a moan. “Are you even for real?”

 

Len chuckled, actually chuckled (had Barry actually died and gone to heaven?), and side-eyed him. “I take it you like that, Scarlet.”

 

It wasn’t a question because the answer was obvious. Barry nodded emphatically, shoving the rest of the cupcake into his mouth and wiping some frosting from his upper lip. “It’s like sex in my mouth.”

 

Len bit his lower lip to keep himself from laughing and shook his head. He had been skeptical about hiring the kid on as a part-time cashier, so instead he'd requested his help as a taste tester. With Lisa away on a motorcycle tour, he needed the second opinion. He was, after all, his own worst critic.

 

So far, Len had learned that Barry hated anything with lemon and, if that moan was any indication, he was incredibly fond of the chocolate cupcakes with Nutella ganache and Ferraro Rocher sprinkles. That one wasn’t even a Len original, but apparently he “made it perfectly.”

 

Barry (he'd made a mental note about the name) was already on his third cupcake when the bell rang out front.

 

Barry stood from where he’d been leaning forward on Len’s workspace and sucked the frosting off his finger. Len probably would have chastised him about how unsanitary that was in a bakery if the sharp pop that Barry’s mouth made when he pulled out his finger hadn’t jarred something in Len.

 

Len cleared his throat and slapped Barry’s hand away from the marshmallow creme he was mixing. The last thing he needed was for the kid to contaminate the whole batch — although, he was sure Barry would have no problem finishing the ruined frosting by himself. Seriously, where did the kid put it all?

 

He rolled his eyes at Barry’s chastised look and went out front, stopping as soon as he opened the door.

 

“Mick?”

 

The familiar, rough-and-tumble man grinned at him and spread his arms, sauntering forward. “Snart, brother.”

 

“Well,” Len grinned, stepping around the counter and pulling the man into a brief hug. “I think the last time I saw you, you were being dragged away in handcuffs for setting your apartment building on fire.”

 

Mick’s grin turned smug. “Can you believe they let me out?”

 

Len’s smile widened because no, he really couldn’t. He was lucky that everyone in the building had made it out safely. If someone had actually died in that fire he would have faced a life sentence instead of the mere twenty years he’d been granted. He shook his head. “How _was_ your time in prison, Mick?”

 

Mick smirked and crossed his muscular arms over his chest. "As well as you’d expect.” He grunted, his gaze going far off. “Man, I can’t wait to get my hands on some fire. Just one flame.”

 

Mick’s eyes drifted toward the kitchen and Len held up his hands. “Oh no, not here, Mick.”

 

The man’s gaze was unwavering though and it made Len turn around. Barry was standing there in the doorway, watching the exchange. How long had he been standing there? Len had almost forgotten he was even there.

 

“Who’s this?” Mick grunted.

 

Len looked between the two of them, about to answer when Barry stepped forward with an outstretched hand.

 

“Barry Allen,” he greeted with a friendly smile. When Mick didn’t shake his hand, Barry’s smile faded and he took a step back, scratching at his neck.

 

“Just some kid, Mick,” Len spoke up, and if Barry looked a little hurt at that Len pretended not to notice. It was true, after all.

 

“You like fire, kid?” Mick questioned.

 

Barry faltered, his wide eyes moving between the two older men. “Uh, fire?”

 

Len huffed. If he would have known these two would cross paths… “Barry, don’t you have somewhere to be?” _Like anywhere but here?_ Len didn’t add.

 

Barry’s attention snapped to Len, and Len definitely couldn’t ignore the slight sting that flashed into the kid’s eyes, even though it was gone just as fast. Barry nodded. “Yeah, right. I’ll see you later?”

 

He paused, trying to gauge Len’s reaction, but Len kept his expression carefully blank.

 

“Right,” Barry continued, offering Mick a stiff smile. “Well, it was nice to meet you.” He glanced back at Len before leaving, letting the front door close quietly on his way out.

 

Mick, who had watched the kid go, turned back to Len with raised eyebrows. “He your boyfriend or your bitch?”

 

Len narrowed his eyes, answering shortly, “Neither.”

 

He made his way back to the kitchen to continue his baking, knowing Mick would follow.

 

“Shame,” Mick grumbled, stealing a toothpick from a box on the counter and sticking it in his mouth. “He’s pretty.”

 

Len ignored his comment and got back to mixing his ingredients, realizing he hadn’t had Barry try what he’d really been looking for feedback on. He breathed evenly through his nose. Some other time then.

 

He heard the burner on the stove flick on and squeezed his whisk tightly in his hand, shooting his old friend a stern gaze. “Mick.”

 

Mick touched a finger to the flame before turning it off and turning to Len with a shrug. He watched Len work for a minute before huffing. “Can’t believe you own a bakery. You’ve gone soft, Snart.”

 

Len didn’t take his eyes off his work. “Nothing wrong with liking food, Mick.”

 

Mick hummed in mild agreement, leaning back onto the counter with his arms crossed. “That’s what I’ve always said about fire, but no one seems to listen.”

 

Len smirked and shook his head. Mick was nothing if not crazy, but Len had to admit that he had missed him. Being alone with nothing but a bakery for company was starting to wear on him. Plus, he had missed having a little crazy in his life. Things had gotten far too _mundane_ lately.

 

“We should get back into business,” Mick suggested after a while of amiable silence, as if thinking along the same lines. “For old time’s sake.”

 

Len’s hand paused in the middle of covering soft chocolate cookies with the marshmallow creme. After a moment, he continued working, contemplating his friend’s proposal. It had been a while since he’d been in business with Mick — twenty years, to be exact — and he was just starting to make a name for himself in the bakery business. However, there was something rather... _enticing_ about the idea of being in the field again.

  
He finished frosting the cookies and placed the unfrosted cookies on top of them to make whoopie pies. He smirked and flicked his gaze up to his former partner. “When do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MICK RORY, EVERYONE. I know everyone's been wondering what happened to him and, well, now you know! You also know (vaguely) what happened to Lisa (don't worry, she'll come in later with a few special guests). Basically, this chapter builds off the last one, picking up where the last one left off. Barry couldn't just do all that Flash business and not eat, y'know? I couldn't have combined the two chapters, but that would have been a bit long. Besides, I like where this began and left off.
> 
> I wish I had more to say at the moment, but I'm actually pretty exhausted from nine hours worth of homework (yay?). But hey! I still managed to update, so woo! I'm already working on chapter six of this fic, so who knows when I'll update next? ;D
> 
> Thanks again for the kudos, comments, subscriptions, and bookmarks! You guys are amazing<3 Also, the questions you've been asking in the comments are great! You guys keep me on my toes and that's exactly what I need, so thank you! :)


	3. White Russians and Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len needs to ask Barry a favor.

Barry was surprised to see Len and his friend at a bar a few days later. Iris was sitting beside him, laughing at something Eddie said — and yeah, Barry was pretty tired of being the third wheel — when Barry saw Len walk in. He was half tempted to walk over to the man until Mick walked in behind him.

 

Barry deflated a little and tried to turn his attention away from them. Len hadn’t seemed all that happy the last time Barry and Mick were in the same room together, and Barry wasn’t too keen to repeat _that_ situation. He didn’t really understand why Len had been so defensive. He knew it wasn’t something Barry said, he hadn’t even gotten the chance to say much. Maybe it was the way he acted? He hadn’t really known how to react to Mick. The man was a bit unnerving and Barry was pretty sure he had walked in on the two of them discussing Mick’s time in prison. Not that Barry had any room to judge with his dad in prison but...

 

A baker and a criminal walk into a bar...it just sounded like some sort of bad joke. How did they even know each other?

 

“Barry?”

 

Barry finally tore his attention away from Len, his gaze jerking to Iris. “Hm?”

 

She raised her eyebrow. “Were you even listening?” Her gaze slid across the room just as Barry opened his mouth to protest. He barely got more than a syllable out before she was turning back to him knowingly. “Ohh, now I know what caught your attention.”

 

Eddie looked between the two of them, then surveyed the bar. “Who?”

 

“The baker Barr has a crush on,” Iris teased, grinning widely at Barry, who blushed. She nudged him. “You should go say hi.”

 

Barry ducked his head and slapped her hand away. “Wha—? No! I’m not gonna — I don’t have a _crush_!”

 

His best friend hummed. “Then you won’t mind if I call him over then?”

 

“What? Iris!”

 

But it was already too late, she had already managed to catch Len's attention from where he was standing near the bar. Barry peeked over his shoulder and swore before burying his face in his arms. This could not be happening. Iris was no longer his best friend. He hereby demoted her to the-girl-he-sometimes-loved-and-would-still-plan-the-wedding-for...if she was lucky. He was taking her wedding present back though.

 

“Leonard! We didn’t expect to see you here!” Iris chirped happily, a hint of laughter in her voice, most likely at Barry’s expense. He would definitely  _not_ be singing at her wedding.

 

“Iris,” Len greeted, his voice close behind Barry. The man’s voice held a touch of humor, which Barry took to be a good sign. “Believe it or not, I do get out of the bakery on occasion.”

 

Barry listened silently as Iris laughed and introduced Eddie, who sounded all too happy to meet the baker who had won over his fiance’s tastebuds. It was sort of an impressive feat, especially since Eddie had tried baking for her once and it...well, it hadn't turned out too well.

 

“And, of course, you know Barry,” Iris murmured, sounding just shy of laughter. He was calling Linda and canceling her bachelorette party.

 

“Of course,” Len drawled, and there was a pause where Barry lifted a hand in greeting, still too mortified by his friend’s behavior to actually look at the man. Len chuckled, and okay, maybe Barry could at least _peek_. True to expectation, Len was smirking down at him. “Not hungover already, are you, Scarlet?”

 

Barry grunted, sitting up and wiping his hands over his face. If only that were the case. If only alcohol had any effect on him at all. “Not yet.”

 

Len raised an eyebrow at that, but turned his attention back to Eddie. “So, I hear you work with the CCPD.”

 

And _what_? How had he heard that? Barry hadn’t said anything, had he? He didn’t think he had…

 

“Yeah, I’m a detective,” Eddie explained, nodding toward Barry. “Barry is a CSI.”

 

Len hummed, looking thoughtfully at Barry. “You never mentioned that.”

 

Barry felt his cheeks warm under Iris’s imploring gaze. He hadn’t exactly mentioned that he was Len’s unofficial-on-again-off-again taste tester. Or that he had been going back to the bakery every day for more cake...well, every day until Mick showed up anyway. At least his bank account was mostly unscathed because of their arrangement. “Oh? Uh, yeah. I guess I didn’t think it was that important?”

 

Barry could feel Len’s gaze easing over him, as if sizing him up, and it made Barry squirm. When did that become a thing that happened, exactly?

 

Barry glanced back at the bar, where Mick stood, watching from a distance. Mick saw him looking and sent a crooked grin his way, something almost predatory dancing in his eyes.

 

Barry quickly turned back around, and if he felt himself start to sweat it was only because he was completely out of his element here. He could fight criminals all day without flinching, but having to act cordial with them while flirting (this wasn’t even flirting, shut up) with their best friends? That made him feel...well, he couldn't decide how that made him feel, actually.

 

“Uh--” Barry began, but stopped short when he felt a hand drift over the small of his back. His body stiffened at the touch, his eyes going wide, but no one else seemed to notice that Len’s hand was wrapping itself around the back of his shirt. Even when Barry glanced up at him, Len’s face showed no sign that he was invading Barry’s space. He merely smiled politely at whatever Eddie was saying and took a small step forward, closer to Barry.

 

What was going on here, exactly?

 

“We need to talk,” Len murmured. Barry nearly jumped out of his skin at the proximity. He glanced up at Iris and Eddie to see them deep in conversation about something related to the wedding. Oh no, they were arguing again, weren’t they?

 

Pushing that from his mind, Barry glanced up at Len curiously. “About what?”

 

“Let me buy you a drink,” Len suggested, loud enough for Iris and Eddie to hear.

 

The bickering couple stopped talking and turned to them, Eddie looking kind of sheepish and Iris beaming at Barry. “Yeah, Barr. Go ahead. Eddie and I—” she turned to her fiance with a stiff smile. “—have some things to discuss.”

 

“Uh,” Barry began. Why did it feel like he was always so speechless when Len was around? Either that or he was babbling.

 

Before he could protest or say anything further, he was being pulled out of his chair and guided toward the bar, Len’s hand wrapped firmly around his bicep. Barry’s gaze drifted to Len’s hand, wondering what exactly had warranted the manhandling. Not that Barry was really complaining, but he would at least like to know what the hell was going on.

 

Len guided Barry to the bar, and Barry was a little relieved when Len positioned himself between him and Mick. He glanced at Barry. “What’s your poison, Scarlet?”

 

Barry didn’t have a poison because he couldn’t get drunk anymore. It was all the same to him, so he shrugged. “Beer?”

 

Len seemed to consider this for a moment before ordering two White Russians instead.

 

Barry normally would have argued, but it didn’t really matter, did it? It all just tasted like poorly flavored liquid to him now. He didn’t really care about the drink anyway. He just wanted to know what Len wanted.

 

Len seemed to notice his impatience. “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

 

Barry turned to face him, resting an elbow on the bar, and waited.

 

The older man sighed. “I’m going out of town for a few days so I won’t be around to run the bakery.”

 

Barry didn’t understand. What did that have to do with him? “Okay?”

 

Len frowned. “If I were to prepare things ahead of time, would you be willing to take care of the place for me?”

 

Barry was starting to feel like an idiot because he still didn’t understand. Was Len asking him to run the bakery for him?

 

“I’ll let you keep whatever profit and tips you make,” the older man offered, obviously seeing Barry’s hesitation.

 

Barry faltered, eyes wide. Len was offering to let Barry keep any money he made off Len’s food? That didn’t seem fair. Plus, Barry didn’t really think he could work around all that food all day without eating it all by himself. “I don’t know…”

 

“Let me make it worth your while,” Len drawled, sliding Barry’s drink toward him when it was set down on the bar. He turned to face Barry, his eyes calculating as he sipped leisurely at his drink.

 

Barry felt his body flush with a heat that reached all the way down his chest. He opened his mouth, finding it dry, and took a large sip of his White Russian. It wasn’t what he normally would have ordered, but it wasn’t... _horrible_.

 

Len sucked air between his teeth, regaining Barry’s attention, and smirked. “I'll make you all the red velvet cupcakes you can eat.”

 

 _Oh_ . That — that made a lot more sense than what Barry was thinking. Barry didn’t know what he would have done if Len had meant… “I guess I could ask for a few days off?” Barry was a little surprised that those were the words that managed to come out of his mouth. He was _relieved_ , but still surprised.

 

Len smiled, clapping a hand over Barry’s shoulder, the unexpected gesture making Barry jump. This man would be the death of him.

 

Len shook him gently. “Knew you’d come around.”

 

He removed his hand and turned to lean on the bar, glancing up at the basketball game that was playing on the TV. Barry felt himself relax a bit and repositioned himself, resisting the urge to lean into Len.

 

Barry cleared his throat and glanced sideways, trying not to notice the smattering of stubble along the other man’s chin. “When do I start?”

 

“Tomorrow,” Len muttered without looking at him. “If you’re free, I can start training you.”

 

“Training?” the younger man questioned, earning a smirk from Len.

 

Len lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I’d just hand you the keys to the place, did you?”

 

“Well, no, but—”

 

“Good,” Len interrupted, downing the rest of his drink before pulling out a few bills to pay the bartender. He tossed the money onto the bar and muttered to Barry, “Be there tomorrow night at eight and I’ll show you a few things.”

 

“I—” Barry began, not entirely sure where he was going with the sentence. The older man was already moving to leave and the only thing Barry could think to mutter was, “Okay.”

 

Len nodded once before leaving with Mick trailing behind him. As Barry watched them go, his mind went back over the last few minutes, trying to process everything that had happened. Was that the only reason Len had come into the bar, to talk to Barry? Or did Len and Mick just have other plans? Was Mick the one Len was going out of town with? What were they going to do outside Central City? Why did they need to leave in order to do it?

  
With so many questions left unanswered, Barry knocked back a good portion of his White Russian and returned back to his friends, a little flustered and utterly confused. Barry spent the rest of the night evading Iris’s questions and nursing a couple beers, wishing now more than ever that they actually did something for him. Because right now? He could use them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write. Flustered!Barry will always be my favorite. Throw in a persistent and flirtatious Len and you've got a perfect recipe.
> 
> Only a few more chapters until you all get to meet Lisa and a couple special guests (and by special guests, I just mean...well...you'll see, I guess). I just finished writing chapter six (I have no idea how I feel about it, so I might end up fine-tuning it a bit) and I will start working on chapter seven soon. As soon as I finish chapter seven, I will post chapter five. Get ready for some interesting revelations about Len. And more questions on Barry's end because just because Len isn't Captain Cold doesn't mean he's willing to talk about himself or his past. o:-)
> 
> Thank you all, again, for your comments! I'm glad to hear you guys are enjoying this as much as I am<3


	4. Surprises and Safe Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry learns a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that you're all wonderful and I love you all very much! Enjoy the feels<3

Len had just gotten done shoving a few bags of flour into the back when he heard the incessant noise of the bell out front. He sighed and patted at his shirt, trying to rid himself of the flour that had slipped out of the bags. When he made it out front, he was surprised to find Barry there waiting for him. He glanced at the clock. "Wow, Scarlet. You're actually early."  
  
Barry, once again, lived up to the nickname when his cheeks turned red. He shrugged. "Got out of work early."  
  
Len smirked and shook his head, beckoning him to the kitchen. He pulled out a platter of red velvet cupcakes and held them out to Barry. Barry’s eyes went wide and he quickly took as many cupcakes as he could carry (four), as if he forgot Len had said _all you can eat_. Len couldn't help the amused grin that tugged at his lips. The kid was insatiable.  
  
He set the platter on the counter and pointedly ignored the way Barry was shoving one of the cupcakes into his mouth, eating half of it in one bite. If Len was paying attention he would have noticed the frosting that was coating the kid's lips and the way Barry's eyes were rolling into the back of his head like it was the best thing he'd ever experienced — as if the damn things were orgasmic. But he wasn't paying attention. Not even a little.

  
"So," Len began, clearing his throat. "Most of this is pretty simple. I'll prepare the food ahead of time and you'll just have to stick it in the oven until the timer goes off." He glanced at Barry, biting back a laugh at the sight of the frosting that somehow made it onto Barry's nose. He shook his head, trying to remain stern as he said, "And stick to the time I tell you. Any more or less and whatever it is you're making will come out wrong."   
  
Barry nodded, his cheeks bulging from a rather large bite of his second cupcake.   
  
Len blinked. What was he thinking, leaving this kid to look after the bakery for him? There was no way he'd last a day on his own. Not without eating the entirety of the display case before the first day was even over. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. If he didn't have regular customers who relied on him... "Maybe I shouldn't go."   
  
"Wha-?" Barry questioned, the sound muffled by his mouthful. He took a minute to chew and swallow, the cupcake going down a little rough, before continuing, "No! Look, Len, I'm sure it'll be fine! How hard could this be?"   
  
Len lifted an eyebrow at that. How hard-- did Barry actually think running a bakery on his own was _easy_? Not only did it require excellent time management skills, but it also required the ability to multitask between baking, prepping, filling the display case, and waiting on customers. It wasn't like Len had a fully functional staff to help him. He didn't even have a staff at all, actually.   
  
"What else are you going to want me to do?" Barry questioned, looking honestly willing to learn.   
  
Len observed him for a moment before sighing and passing him a napkin. He motioned for Barry to follow. "Again, most of this will just be you putting things in the oven and taking them out when the timer goes off. Or just filling the display case with whatever I set out for you."   
  
He showed Barry the racks he used to bring the baked goods onto the sales floor and looked at him pointedly. "Do not try to carry everything at once. You'll only make a mess. Use these racks to bring things in and out of the kitchen."   
  
Over the next couple of hours, he moved around the kitchen at a deliberately slow pace, walking Barry through how to work the stove, telling him where certain things were located, how to keep track of which things would need to be thrown away at the end of the day -- something Barry had gone slack-jawed at.   
  
Len had rolled his eyes. "If it's waste, you can take whatever you want home with you. It should last a couple days, at most. Can't promise it'll be any good after that."   
  
Barry had fist pumped -- how old was he again? -- and continued trailing after Len as he continued to train him.   
  
By the time they had walked through mostly everything, it was nearing ten o'clock and Len realized he needed to lock up and get things ready for the next day. Barry offered to help and Len shrugged, figuring he would need to know how to do it anyway.   
  
He passed Barry a broom and the two of them set to work sweeping the sales floor before moving to the kitchen, where Len walked him through preparing the next day’s product and counting the waste at the end of the day.   
  
Sometime in the middle of training, Barry ended up hopping onto Len's workspace, kicking his legs against the bottom cupboards, while Len carried on like he wasn’t even there. When Len glanced up, however, he noticed that Barry had the platter of cupcakes in his lap, a pile of balled-up wrappers strewn across the countertop. Barry had a cupcake in his hand, but was barely touching it, looking a little sick.   
  
Len chuckled, marking a few things as waste and placing them in a box. "So, there is a bottom to that stomach of yours."   
  
Barry grunted, moving the platter off his lap and taking another halfhearted bite of the cupcake in his hand. "So good, but so full."   
  
The older man snorted. "Don't make yourself sick, kid. Save it for later."   
  
Barry nodded and set the cupcake down, sliding to the floor and leaning back against the counter. "How do you do it?"   
  
"Do what?"   
  
Barry waved his hand around ambiguously. "Run a bakery. Bake. You know, all of this."   
  
Len averted his gaze from the food-hazy kid and refocused on boxing up the leftover food. "It's easy. I bake, I sell, then I do it all again the next day."   
  
"Yeah, but," Barry continued, moving closer. "You do it all by yourself."   
  
Len lifted the box off the floor and glanced at him. "And?"   
  
"And," Barry echoed. "That's impressive. For real. It can't be easy."   
  
Len had never said it was easy, nor had he ever said it wasn't worth it. He shrugged, nodding for Barry to walk ahead of him. The sooner Len separated him from the cupcakes, the better. The last thing he needed was for the kid to hurl all over the kitchen floors. He was far too tired to deal with something like that this late at night.   
  
Len killed the lights in the kitchen and shrugged. "I don't do it because it's easy." He set the box down on the front counter and dug out his keys. "I do it because I enjoy it."   
  
Barry stared at him, but remained quiet, following him out of the building and hitting the lights for him on the way out. Len set down the box on the ground and turned to lock the door, double checking it before picking up the box again.   
  
It was a little cold outside, their breath coming out in wisps of fog, but it wasn't unbearable. Still, Barry found himself stepping a little closer to the man as they walked down the sidewalk together, stealing a bit of his warmth.   
  
"I still think it's impressive," Barry muttered finally, glancing almost shyly at the man beside him.   
  
Len caught the glance and frowned, his eyebrows drawing together. He'd never really considered what he did for a living impressive. It was just something he did. Something to pass the time before another job came along. Another job that might just include Mick.   
  
"What are you doing with all that food anyway?" Barry asked when Len didn't reply.   
  
Len glanced down at the box in his arms. "Ever heard of Safe Haven?"   
  
Barry's eyebrows drew together. "The homeless shelter?"   
  
Len nodded, keeping his gaze on the sidewalk in front of them. "They get a lot of kids in there, kids that probably should be in the system, but have somehow escaped it. The place doesn't ask a lot of questions, just gives them a place to sleep for the night and help if needed."   
  
"So, you bring them your leftovers?" Barry guessed, a little surprised, but even more impressed.   
  
"Most of the time, yeah," Len murmured, shifting the box in his arms.   
  
They walked on in amiable silence for a while, with their arms brushing occasionally. Eventually, Len stopped and Barry stopped too. Len glanced at the building beside them. "This is where our night ends, kid."   
  
Barry observed the apartment building, the thought of finishing the night inside only barely crossing his mind before he squashed it. He and Len were...well, he didn't know what they were, but they were practically coworkers now, right? Len was technically his boss. Even if he was getting paid in cupcakes.   
  
"Right," Barry nodded. "I'll, ah, see you around then?"   
  
Len's lips quirked into a crooked smile and he nodded, pulling his keys from his pocket. "You will." He unlocked the door. "Goodnight, Barry."   
  
Barry returned his smile, feeling like he was seeing the man in a whole new light after the night they'd spent together -- not spent together, spent together, but together. At the bakery. Damn it, Barry really needed to get a handle on his thoughts. His internal monologue was starting to sound like Felicity.   
  
"Night, Len," Barry replied, sticking around long enough to share one last smile with the man before continuing on down the sidewalk.   
  
As Len opened the front door to his building and made his way to his apartment on the third floor, he couldn't help but let his thoughts stray to the enigma that was Barry Allen. He would like to think he had the kid all figured out, but he was almost certain he didn't. The kid was easy to read sometimes, but most of the time Len was just left wondering what was going on in that head of his. Who was Barry Allen underneath the obvious flirtations and the obsession with red velvet cake?   
  
He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to know more about what, exactly, made the kid tick, but he knew he had to reign in his...infatuation. Going down that road might be dangerous. He would be working with Mick again soon and that wasn't really the type of business he wanted Barry clued into. That would just be asking for trouble. Then again, he did always have an affinity for trouble.   
  
Unlocking the door to his apartment and setting the box of food on the table, he let out a long sigh and toed off his shoes, shrugging out of his jacket. The last thing he needed was to be distracted by a man who was almost half his age. But damn it, the kid knew how to leave an impression and, whether he liked it or not, he was already more than a little distracted.

This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all.

 

~*~

 

Barry went home that night and collapsed onto the couch, spiraling into the food coma of the century. He felt like his stomach was going to explode from all the red velvet cupcakes he'd stuffed himself with and, surprisingly, the walk home had done nothing to ease his stomachache. Honestly, Len's baked goods were probably not the best things to be surrounded by for an extended period of time. He didn't have much self-restraint.  
  
Despite being surrounded by so much temptation, Barry was feeling a little excited about taking over the bakery for a couple days. It was a lot of responsibility, but he figured he could handle it. Besides, if he ran into any trouble he had his super speed (and the fire department on speed dial).   
  
"You got home late," Joe murmured as he came out of the kitchen with a glass of water.   
  
Barry moved his arm from over his face and leaned up to look at the man, donned in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. No overnight shift, then. Good. Maybe Joe would actually get some sleep for once.   
  
He collapsed back onto the couch and groaned, closing his eyes. "I ate too much."   
  
Joe chuckled. "You were at that bakery again, right? With that hot baker?" Barry gave him an incredulous look and Joe laughed. "Iris's words, not mine."   
  
Joe sat down in the living chair and lifted an eyebrow. "He still giving you free cake?"   
  
Barry sighed. "No more free cake, Joe. I have to earn it."   
  
"Don't you mean pay for it?"   
  
Barry blew air through his lips and shook his head. "Earn." He glanced at his foster father. "I'm working there for a couple days."   
  
"Is that why you took the time off?" Joe asked, incredulous. "To do more work?"   
  
Barry nodded, wrinkling his nose at the thought. He may have been looking forward to it, but it was still work, and he was using part of his vacation time at the precinct to do it.   
  
Joe shook his head. "You know, most people would actually do something fun on their days off."   
  
Yeah, right. Fun. When did the Flash have time for that anymore?   
  
"But red velvet cake, Joe," Barry pointed out, widening his eyes to stress the point. He knew he was being ridiculous, that his obsession with the dessert was getting out of hand, but he wasn't entirely sure he cared. The cake made his stomach happy, so he was happy...even if that meant having to sacrifice some of his days off.   
  
"You sure you're doing this for the cake, Barr?"   
  
Barry blinked. "That's the big motivating factor, yeah."   
  
Joe looked at him disbelievingly and shook his head. "That may have sealed the deal, but are you sure you're not doing this to get closer to the baker?" At Barry's widened eyes, Joe smirked. "Iris and I do talk sometimes, you know. She told me Leonard found you at the bar and that it looked like the two of you were getting awfully close."   
  
Barry's face burned and he coughed out a laugh, wiping his hands over his face. "She told you that?"   
  
Joe hummed. He eyed him before sighing. "Barry, you know you can talk to me about this sort of thing, right? Just because Leonard is..." Joe hesitated, feeling the awkwardness of the situation. He and Barry had never really had a conversation about his sexuality, but that wasn't because Joe wasn't supportive. It was because the topic had just...never come up. "Just because Leonard is a guy doesn't mean I don't want to hear more about him."   
  
Barry sat up quickly, his eyes going wide. "No, yeah, I know that, Joe. I just...I don't..." He sighed. "There's not much to tell. I don't even know what this is right now."   
  
"But it is something?" the older man questioned, leveling Barry with a serious look.   
  
Barry shrugged. "I mean...it could be? We still don't know much about each other, Joe."   
  
Joe hummed again and nodded. "Okay, but you'll tell me if something...happens between you two, right? I don't need the details, but if it gets serious..."   
  
"You'll be one of the first to know," Barry promised with a small smile, although he couldn't promise that Joe would be the first person Barry told. After all, it was all Iris's fault that he was in this mess in the first place. It was only fair that she would be the first to know if something happened between him and Leonard. Len. Lenny. He wondered what the man would do if Barry called him Lenny. Barry probably shouldn’t push his luck.   
  
"Good," Joe stated after a while, nodding resolutely and patting Barry on the knee. "I'm heading to bed. Shut the lights off before you turn in?"   
  
Barry nodded. "And Joe? Thanks."   
  
Joe smiled and ruffled his hair, earning a squawked protest from Barry, on his way to the stairs. "Night, Barr."   
  
"Night," Barry sighed, laying back down on the couch. He took advantage of his time alone to think about everything that had happened that night.

  
All in all, his night had been fairly boring, with the usual evidence to process and badgering to put up with at work. His night had changed when he went to the bakery though. He was a little surprised by how much he had learned about Len in the few hours he’d spent with him. He'd learned things he hadn't even imagined, like the fact that Len donated his food to the homeless or the fact that he cared about _kids_ .   
  
Barry knew there had to be more to that story. Most people he knew didn't think twice about other people in the city, too wrapped up in their own lives to care, but Len...he somehow managed to find the time. Not only that, but he owned his own business, was good at what he did, and clearly took care of himself if the muscles on his arms were any indication. Barry didn't really know how someone could be so put together, especially not when Barry's life seemed to be so chaotic in comparison — even _before_ he became the Flash.   
  
Maybe there were things he could learn from Len, things beyond how to take things out of the oven in time and how to accurately count the food waste. Maybe he could learn how to balance his time better (something Joe and Iris had been trying to teach him for years) and how to slow down, at least whenever he wasn't patrolling the streets as the Flash. More than that, though, maybe Len could teach him to relax and to trust again.   
  
As Barry settled into bed that night, he felt a renewed sense of hope for the future for the first time since waking up from his coma. Maybe the things in his life would never be perfect (they would sure as hell never be normal), but maybe they didn't need to be. Maybe he could be happy with what he had, in spite of all the things he’d lost. And maybe, just maybe, Len was the key to all of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, yes. Len is a big old softy at heart, even if he doesn't want to admit it. He's got a huge soft spot for kids (especially kids who are in need). If you're surprised, imagine how Barry feels because he didn't see that one coming _at all_. I mean, really? The man who hates to smile so much loves to bake and actually likes kids? This is too much. Barry doesn't know if his heart can handle this one.
> 
> Also, Barry was early for once. What does _that_ mean, exactly? Maybe he's a little eager to spend more time with Len? Or maybe he just really wanted those cupcakes. Regardless, something is motivating him to spend more time at the bakery and Len...well, Len likes the company — likes _his_ company. Not that he would ever admit to that. Because he's an idiot, much like Barry. Although Barry does seem to be coming around to the idea of developing something with Len...
> 
> On another note, I'm a little iffy about the next chapter (mainly because it's more chopped into segments than I usually like to write), but I'm pumped about chapter 7 and chapter 8. You have no idea how excited I am to share those with you. (I'm currently working on chapter 8 and when that's finished, chapter 6 will be posted.) I feel like this fic is moving at a pretty steady pace, which is new for me. I think this is the fastest I've written a story since I started college 4 years ago. x) I'm pretty sure you guys are the motivation behind that, actually, so thank you! You guys are amazing<3
> 
> However, please don't get too used to these quick updates because, as much as I'm trying to find the time to write, I know this semester will get a little busy. If updates do start to slow down a bit, I apologize! I will do my best to update when I can! xo


	5. Whisky and Snark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry's not so sure he'd like having Len as a boss...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. I can't express how much I appreciate and adore all of you<3

Barry was on his way to Jitters for his morning coffee before work when a thought crossed his mind. Picking up speed, he changed direction and headed away from Jitters. He went for a few blocks and skirted around a few delivery vans before finally reaching his destination.

 

He skidded to a halt in the alley behind Safe Haven, making his way out front and peering into the window. The bottom floor of the three story building was an open room lined with tables. There was a kitchen toward the back, with a bar where people could be served whatever the staff had made that day. The room resembled a cafeteria, but seemed less cheerful somehow, more cramped and confining with concrete walls and cracked flooring.

 

He was surprised to see so many kids, despite what Len had mentioned. Part of him had been hoping there were only one or two of them, but the kids actually made up the majority of the group. Most of them had escaped the foster care system, Barry remembered Len saying. Barry had been lucky to be put with Joe after his mom died, he realized. If he had been put with anyone else…

 

As he stood and watched the kids congregate at their tables, Barry couldn’t help but wonder what their stories were. Most of them were wearing worn or baggy clothing and Barry figured they had either been fending for themselves for a while or just weren’t being taken care of. What had happened to their parents? Why were they put into foster care? Did they run away from home? If so, what were they running from?

 

Were they safe?

 

His heart ached as all the questions bombarded him at once. Now that he had seen it, he wanted to _do_ something, but what could he do? He couldn’t tell anyone at work about this, especially not Joe. They’d just put the kids back in foster care and Barry...well, Barry understood that not all kids were as lucky as he was. He knew that not all foster parents _cared_.

 

That might be why some of them were there in the first place, he realized. Some of their foster parents may just be collecting the reimbursement checks and letting the kids fend for themselves. There were supposed to be procedures that ensured that wouldn’t happen, but Barry knew some people still got away with it.

 

He sighed and glanced down at his watch. He was going to be late for work again, but the trip to Save Haven felt worth it somehow. He was glad he had seen this, even if it did make him feel a bit helpless.

 

Glancing through the window again, he smiled when he saw one of the workers bring out the box of baked goods Len had packed the night before. He saw the way the kids’ faces lit up as the cupcakes, muffins, donuts, and breads were doled out.

 

He wondered if Len had ever seen the effect his food had on these kids — if he knew just how much of a difference he was making. Because for a moment, regardless of how brief it was, Barry watched as the kids’ spirits were lifted. It might not have been much, but it was still something. It still made a difference.

 

Feeling a bit inspired, Barry smiled to himself and made his way to work. He knew he would end up coming back to the shelter sometime soon. Even though he, like most people in Central City, tended to get busy, he didn’t want to be one of those people who were too busy to care about others.

 

If Len could find a way to help, Barry knew he could too. But first, Barry needed to know just how much Len knew about these kids.

 

~*~

 

The evening air was almost too cold for Barry as he leaned against the side of the building, his hands tucked into his pockets and his jacket pulled tight against his frame. He ducked his head against the wind and shivered, trying to ignore the way his teeth chattered. When he heard a door close, he glanced up.

 

Len locked the door to the bakery and turned, stopping short when he saw Barry leaning against the storefront. He lifted an eyebrow. “Not here for more cake, are you, kid?”

 

Barry cleared his throat and shook his head, joining him as he began walking down the sidewalk, the usual box of food in his arms. “No, actually — I, uh, have something for you.” At Len’s lifted eyebrow, Barry quickly back-pedaled. “Well, not for you. It’s actually for Safe Haven.”

 

Len was quiet for a while and Barry was almost worried that he had somehow disappointed him.

 

“It’s not much,” Barry admitted, holding up the half-full trash bag he’d been lugging. “But I figured...they could probably use some clothes, right?”

 

Len eyed the bag and nodded shortly, still too quiet for Barry’s liking.

 

“I mean,” he scrambled. “I know giving to the shelter is sort of your thing, but I—”

 

“I’m not mad, Barry,” Len stated finally, and when Barry looked at him, he noticed that Len’s eyes had softened considerably and a soft smile was tugging at his lips. His eyes drifted back to the bag in the younger man’s hands. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate whatever you can spare.”

 

Len went back to being quiet then and Barry felt like he was missing something, like there was something personal about the place that Barry didn’t understand. He wanted to ask, but he wasn’t entirely sure he’d get an answer.

 

They stopped outside Len’s apartment building, where Len easily maneuvered the box in his arms while he unlocked the door. He paused briefly and glanced back at Barry, almost as an afterthought, his eyes drifting back to the garbage bag. “Did you want me to—?”

 

Barry glanced down, his eyes widening. “Oh! Yeah.” He stepped forward and handed him the bag.

 

There was a sad, halfhearted smile on Len’s lips as he nodded. “Night, kid.”

 

Barry tucked his hands back into his pockets and returned the nod. “Night, Len.”

 

Barry watched Len shoulder his way into the building, the door swinging shut and locking behind him. He wondered which floor Len’s apartment was on and how many flights of stairs he had to lug the box full of food and bag full of clothes. Barry regretted not asking to help, even though he knew Len wouldn’t have accepted it.

 

As he headed down the sidewalk, he cast a glance back at Len’s building and wondered what was going through the man’s mind. He had seemed awfully distracted and their interaction seemed... _off_. He sighed and glanced away from the apartment, kicking at a crushed beer can and wondering if Len would ever let him inside.

 

~*~

 

Later that night, Len poured himself a tumbler of whisky and eyed the bag of clothes he'd left by the door. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the gesture. Of course, it was for the kids at Safe Haven, but...Len had told him about that. That meant Len had somehow influenced Barry, didn't it?

 

Did Barry give him the clothes because he cared about the kids or because he cared about — no. Len wouldn’t let himself think that. Barry couldn’t possibly — he barely _knew_ the kid. And he was a _kid_ . He was nearly _half_ Len’s age. Not that Len had much protest to that, but. No.

 

He had to stop thinking like this. Barry was — well, he was _attractive_. He was a little awkward at times, sure, but that could be overlooked, right? He was bound to have offers from both men and women, especially men and women closer to his age.

 

Len sighed and sat down in a kitchen chair, taking a swallow of his stiff drink. He glared at the bag full of clothes, tossing ideas around in his head. After a moment, he finally relented and tugged the thing toward him, tearing it open and sifting through its contents. There wasn’t anything exciting inside, not that he was really expecting there to be. These were clothes for kids, after all.

 

There were a few graphic tees, a few pairs of pants, some sweatpants, a college sweatshirt. Len lingered on that for a moment. “Missouri State” was emblazoned on the front with the bear mascot digging its claws into the lettering. He’d never heard Barry mention college before and the revelation struck him. There really were so many things he didn’t know about the kid. What had even influenced him to get into forensic science? Had he known from the very beginning that that was what he wanted to do? Had he changed his mind sometime during college?

 

Not that any of this mattered to Len. He was merely curious.

 

What was that saying, again? Curiosity killed the cat?

 

He huffed and sat back in his chair, kicking the bag away from him. It slid across the floor, spinning in a circle before stopping, the bag sagging. He glared at it again, but his eyebrows raised when he caught sight of something that looked eerily like…

 

Len got to his feet and sifted through the bag until he found the shirt he wanted. He let the bag drop to the floor and held the shirt up in front of him to get a better look. He snorted at the design. He may not have known much, but he knew one thing: Barry Allen was a massive geek.

 

Kicking the rest of the bag to the side, Len grabbed his drink and made his way to his bedroom, Barry’s old shirt in hand. He doubted the kids at Safe Haven would miss it.

 

~*~

 

“Barry, you’re doing it wrong.”

 

Barry rolled his eyes with a huff and turned to Len, his hands on his hips. This was the eighth time Len had chastised him for not doing something exactly the way he wanted. Barry was actually keeping _count_.

 

What did Len expect, exactly? Barry was new at this. He wasn’t a baker. Hell, he burned _popcorn_ once and almost set the kitchen on fire. He operated on a completely different rhythm than Len, one that was either too fast or too slow, and there was no way he was going to learn everything Len wanted him to before Len left for God-knows-where the next day.

 

Damn it. He was getting a migraine.

 

“What did I tell you about the display case?” the older man asked, his tone chiding.

 

Barry sighed. “I don’t know, Snart.” Barry had resorted to calling the man by his last name about an hour after he’d arrived for training. It didn’t actually accomplish much, but at least it annoyed Len. “Why don’t you enlighten me? Because _clearly_ I’m doing something wrong.”

 

“Doing something—” Len put a hand to his forehead before pointing to the not-so-obvious problem. “Barry, look how far back that product is. The customers need to be able to see it. You need to be moving this stuff forward as it sells. Otherwise, people will think it’s gone and you’ll miss out on sales.”

 

Okay, maybe that was pretty important, but Barry hadn’t done anything like this before, okay? He wasn’t in forensic science for nothing. The closest he’d come to a retail job since he graduated high school was listening to Iris rant about her shifts at Jitters. Which, by the way? Len needed to make coffee a thing at his bakery. Barry was convinced he’d do more business. That’s not to mention that Barry wouldn’t have to go across town just to refuel.

 

Did Len even drink coffee?

 

Barry sighed. “Why did you ask me to do this if you’re just going to micromanage everything I do?” Honestly, he was getting frustrated. He’d had no idea that Len had such intense control issues. If he couldn’t even trust Barry to put product in the display case, how could he trust him to run his bakery?

 

“Because I thought you were capable of following simple instruction, kid,” Len bit out, forcing himself to take a calming breath as a customer came through the door.

 

Len stared hard at the display case as Barry moved to address the customer, offering a bright smile and a cheerful hello. The customer, a girl around Barry’s age, greeted him just as cheerfully, her light green eyes sweeping over Barry’s tall and lean frame.

 

Len rolled his eyes and went out back, fully confident that Barry could handle this one on his own. The kid may not know a lot about baking or running a business, but he knew _people_ and, as much as Len hated to admit it, his customers loved him. If the kid didn’t already have a job, Len would have hired him already (after a lot more training and a lesson or two on time management, of course).

 

“Len?” Barry questioned, pulling the man from his thoughts.

 

“What?” Len asked, knowing he still sounded angry, but not finding it in him to care.

 

“Uh,” Barry stumbled, scratching at the back of his neck. Len was starting to recognize it as a nervous habit. The kid glanced back toward the door, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s someone here about a cake? Says she ordered it the other day?”

 

Len sighed and nodded stiffly, beckoning Barry to follow him to a display case in the back of the kitchen where he stored special orders. There were only two cakes left in the case, one of which wasn’t going to be picked up until Len was already gone. He picked up the plastic cake container and handed it to Barry, who eyed it hungrily. Len couldn’t help but roll his eyes and smirk. It was good to know that he could always win the kid over with cake.

 

Not that he was actively trying to win the kid over.

 

Not that he even _wanted_ to.

 

He frowned. “The customer should be here either today or tomorrow to pick up the other one. The price is on the label.”

 

Barry glanced at the cake in the display case to and nodded. “Right, okay. Easy enough.”

 

Barry turned to go back out to the sales floor, but stopped when Len called out to him. The kid glanced over his shoulder with wide, imploring eyes. Damn it. Why did he have to be so... _adorable_?

 

“The kids loved the clothes,” Len muttered, a soft smile twitching at his lips despite his best efforts to smother it.

 

Barry’s face lit up with the brightest smile Len had ever seen directed at him. And that was...interesting. “Really?”

 

Len stared, transfixed by the way Barry’s eyes became a lighter shade of blue when he was happy. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, they were thrilled.”

 

Barry observed him for a moment, ducking his head to hide his smile. “Good. Uh — that’s what I was hoping for?”

 

“Mission accomplished,” Len commented lightly, catching Barry’s gaze. After a moment, he nodded toward the door. “It’s not good to keep a customer waiting.”

 

“Oh, shit!” the kid swore, his smile falling. “Right! Shit!”

 

Len watched in amusement as Barry scrambled out the door, apologizing profusely to the girl he’d left waiting. Len shook his head and leaned back against the display case, not bothering to cover up his laugh. At this point, he didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he was leaving his bakery in the hands of Barry Allen or that Len was becoming _fond_ of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wah. This chapter gave me so much trouble. I can't tell you how many times I rewrote it, added in different scenes, tweaked it, reworded it, etc. Regardless, I think I got it to a decent enough point. Hopefully you all like it. D:
> 
> On another note, three updates three days in a row?!?! That's gotta be a new record for me! I've been writing vigorously all weekend between homework assignments. :3 We're getting to some very fun parts of the story (and by fun, I really mean interesting...not smut, unfortunately, it's too early for that xD). As you can see, Barry just keeps discovering all these new sides to Len...and Len just seems to be falling harder for Barry. Hmm, there's still a lot I haven't revealed about Len yet, so who knows what Barry's reaction to all of it will be? And who knows what Len will do when he comes to accept his feelings for Barry? Sooo many things to consider! ;)
> 
> The next chapter will introduce a few more characters and, if I'm honest, it was one of the chapters that was the most fun to write -- for various reasons. It should be up next weekend, at the latest! :D


	6. Early Mornings and Terrifying Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len leaves for who knows where and Barry gets an interesting visitor...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I've reread this chapter so many times, but there may be typos that I missed. I'm exhausted so I didn't read through it before posting, so if there's anything I missed, I will fix it later! :)

Len left early the next morning with Mick at his side, the two of them with bags full of what Barry assumed to be clothes. Barry was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trying to adjust to the early morning light as the sun began to rise. Why Barry had to be here so early, he’d never understand.

 

Len turned to Barry and smirked, reaching into the van and procuring a coffee.

 

Barry accepted it greedily, taking a hefty sip and yelping and spluttering when it scorched the roof of his mouth and tongue.

 

“Don’t hurt yourself, Scarlet,” Len chuckled, shaking his head as he turned to the items they’d packed in the trunk. He seemed to be going over some mental checklist of whatever it was they needed for whatever it was they were doing.

 

It was far too early to feel so curious, Barry decided.

 

“Mick,” Len said suddenly, turning to the man as he hefted a particularly heavy bag into the trunk. “Did you grab the—”

 

“Yup,” Mick answered, gaze flicking to Barry and away again. “Packed it last night.”

 

“Then that’s everything,” Len stated with finality, turning back to Barry. His eyes swept over Barry in amusement. “You look like hell, kid.”

 

“It’s four in the morning,” Barry grunted, hugging his coffee closer to him. He was too tired to think about how often Len’s eyes moved over his body like that. He was too tired to wonder what that could mean. He was also too tired to wonder how Len knew how he liked his coffee. There were just some things you didn’t question before the sun was up.

 

“Get used to it,” Len murmured. “The bakery opens at six.”

 

“Six?” Barry squeaked, feeling his entire body deflate at the thought of getting up this early every day. How the hell did Len do this? Didn’t he usually leave the bakery at ten or eleven at night? When did he _sleep_?

 

“Six. I have customers, Barry, who rely on my punctuality.”

 

Barry heard the underlying threat and nodded emphatically, stifling a yawn behind his hand. “Yeah, right. Okay. Punctuality. Six o’clock.”

 

Len regarded him with a sigh. “You sure you can handle this, Barry?”

 

“What?” Barry asked around another yawn, waving him off. “Oh, yeah. Of course! Go, Len! I’ll be fine.”

 

The older man rolled his eyes, but turned his attention back to Mick. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

 

“The _bakery_ , _Leonard_ ,” Barry emphasized, saying the words slowly to stress the point. “Will be fine.”

 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Len muttered, glancing back at him and seeming a little hesitant.

 

Barry made shooing motions with his hands, the coffee slopping over the edge of the cup and scalding his skin.

 

Len snorted when Barry hissed and sucked at the burning skin. The kid was a hot mess.

 

“Time to go, Boss,” Mick grunted.

 

Len nodded shortly and got into the driver’s seat of the van, rolling down the window and putting on a pair of sunglasses that Barry was pretty sure he didn’t need at this time of day. The older man smirked. “Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”

 

“Burning things is my job,” Mick added as he got into the van, earning a glare from Len.

 

Len returned his attention to Barry, the smugness easing out of his expression. “There’s an emergency number behind the register. Call if you need to.” He started the car and paused, emphasizing, “But only if you need to.”

 

Barry raised his eyebrows at that, but nodded.

 

“See you in a few days,” Len drawled, putting the van in drive and pulling away from the curb.

 

Barry offered the men a little wave as they drove away and Barry stared blearily after them for a while, even after their taillights disappeared from view.

 

Stretching his arms over his head, Barry let out a quiet grunt and glanced up and down the street. It was odd to be up so early, before the city really came to life. He saw a few lights turn on in nearby apartments, early risers just starting to wake up. If he had his way, he’d still be asleep.

 

Barry glanced at the rising sun and took a sip of his coffee, running his fingers over the keys in his pocket before heading toward the bakery for his first day on the job.

 

~*~

 

“Caitlin, I can’t just give you a free cupcake,” Barry argued with a laugh, slapping Cisco’s hand away from the fresh donuts he was bringing out from the kitchen.

 

“Dude, Leonard has been giving you free cake for, like, a month,” Cisco defended, trying to reach for the donut again. Barry slapped his hand a little harder, making Cisco yelp and glare at him, muttering, “Rude.”

 

“It’s not the same,” Barry defended, opening the display case and sliding the tray in. He turned to his friends, not at all surprised to find their wide eyes staring back at him. When had his friends become such beggars? “This isn’t my food to give out, guys. You want something? You buy it.”

 

“Hell no!” Cisco exclaimed, following Barry to the kitchen. “Have you seen the prices?”

 

“The prices _are_ a little steep,” Caitlin admitted, almost reluctantly.

 

Barry sighed, getting a pan of muffins ready to put in the oven. “Look, I know that, but there’s nothing I can do, alright? This is Len’s business, not mine. I can’t just change things when he’s not here.”

 

“Sure you can,” Cisco argued lightheartedly, shooting his friend a smile when he glared at him. “Okay, okay. You can’t give us food. We get it. Even though we are your best friends and do everything for you—”

 

Barry shot him a look to shut him up and shook his head, referring to the guidelines Len had left for him before popping the cupcakes into the oven and setting the timer.

 

“You can each have one red velvet cupcake,” he relented, holding up his finger. “Just one.”

 

Cisco broke out into a grin and Caitlin’s smile was so bright that Barry couldn’t really be mad at them for wanting to try some of Len’s baked good. Barry did rant about them enough. He should at least show his friends what all the fuss was about.

 

He pulled out the tray that Len had prepared for him and held it out for them, letting them pick one from the batch. Cisco took the one with the least frosting, while Caitlin took the one with the most. He smiled and crossed his arms, eagerly waiting for their responses.

 

Caitlin was the first to react, tilting her head back blissfully, but Cisco’s reaction was the loudest. He moaned over-dramatically and said, “Oh my god, if you don’t marry him, I will.”

 

Barry felt his cheeks heat up and tried to laugh off the comment because, really? Marriage? They barely knew each other.

 

“Now I know why you love it here, Barr,” Caitlin added, nodding as she took a rather large bite out of her cupcake, blinking adorably when frosting got on the tip of her nose.

 

Barry grinned, passing them both napkins. “Yeah? I told you.”

 

Cisco shrugged. “Eh, I just thought you were here for the hot baker.”

 

What? Well, okay, that _may_ have been part of it, but the baking was what had caught his attention first.

 

Hearing the bell out front, Barry pointed a warning finger at his friends and ordered them not to steal any cupcakes before he went out front to greet the customer.

 

There was a tall, thin brunette on the other side of the counter. She was wearing a tight leather jacket that hugged her in all the right places and her hair fell in waves around her face. Her startling blue eyes grazed over him calculatingly, as if taking in every detail.

 

Barry shifted uneasily under her gaze, but tried not to let his nerves show. “Good morning. Is there—” He paused, clearing his throat as a blonde walked through the door next, donned in leather and wearing a tight smirk. He floundered for a moment before continuing, a little quieter this time. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

 

The brunette hummed, inching closer with a lifted eyebrow. “You’re new.”

 

"I — yeah,” Barry stuttered, wide eyes going to the blonde as she hopped onto the counter, sitting where Barry and Iris had been eating cake a mere month ago. “The owner is — he’s out of town.”

 

The brunette frowned. “Lenny didn’t tell me he was going anywhere.”

 

Barry observed the woman for a moment, a little beside himself. Who was she, exactly? “Um, do you know Len?”

 

The woman’s eyes brightened and she sidled closer. “He has you calling him Len?” She eyed him again. “He must like you.”

 

Barry squirmed and took a small step back, having half a mind to call the emergency number Len had left him to ask him about the terrifying women he apparently spent time with. He thought better of it though. Len had said to only call if he needed to.

 

He could handle this. Maybe. He hoped.

 

“Who are you?” Barry squeaked, frustrated with how terrified he sounded. He was the Flash. Terrifying women shouldn’t scare him. But this terrifying woman? She scared him a little.

 

The woman’s smile grew and she seemed to consider something. “Lenny didn’t tell you about me? Hm, maybe he doesn’t like you as much as I thought.” Her eyes swept down him again, lingering on the apron he was wearing. “Although, I could understand if he did.”

 

Barry blushed, and was saved from replying when Cisco and Caitlin came out of the kitchen with matching grins. Both of them froze at the sight of the women grinning at Barry. Another woman came in a few moments later, donning a leather jacket of her own. This woman, at least, Barry recognized as the one who had picked up the cake the day before. But wait, she knew these people?

 

“Sara, Lisa, stop scaring him,” Patty chastised, approaching the counter with an eye roll. She offered Barry a small smile. “Sorry about Lisa.” She nodded at the brunette. “She’s protective when it comes to her big brother.”

 

Barry’s eyes widened. Now that he looked at the woman again, she did have an eery resemblance to Len. “You’re Len’s sister?”

 

Lisa grinned, and Barry could only describe it as predatory. “I am.” Her gaze flicked up to Caitlin and Cisco, lingering on Cisco for a beat longer than necessary, long enough to make him squirm. She returned her gaze to Barry. “And who are you?”

 

“Just a temp,” Barry answered quickly, clearing his throat. “Just watching the place while Len’s gone.”

 

Lisa hummed and Caitlin, observing all the leather, blurted, “Are you guys in some type of gang?”

 

Lisa’s gaze moved to the girl, a sly smirk pulling at her lips as she leaned over on the counter. “Very observant, but no. Just bikers.”

 

“As in, motorcycles?” Cisco asked for clarification, needing the mental imagery.

 

Lisa nodded, looking amused. “If you want, you can come rev my engine.”

 

Cisco laughed a little and Barry stared, wide eyed. How were her and Len even related? Lisa was much more forward than her brother.

 

Sara jumped off the counter and positioned herself behind Lisa, sliding her hands over the woman’s shoulders and gripping them tightly. “I thought that was my job.”

 

Barry flushed and averted his gaze, scratching at the back of his neck. Caitlin stood in the doorway, looking a little stricken at their forwardness, while Cisco looked like he couldn’t look away.

 

“Dude,” Cisco muttered not-so-discretely. “If hot baker is anything like his sister, I can see why you spend so much time here.”

 

Lisa straightened up at that, and Barry didn’t even have a chance to glare at his friend before Lisa’s gaze was zeroing in on him. She stepped out of the blonde’s grip and easily lifted herself over the counter, landing on the other side, far too close for Barry’s comfort.

 

“You spend a lot of time with my brother?” she questioned, lifting an eyebrow in challenge. Barry got the impression that if he even thought about lying, she would somehow know. She was far too close to him and far too observant not to notice.

 

“I mean, I guess?” Barry lifted his shoulders innocently. What was _a lot_ of time, exactly? He didn’t really know. He certainly didn’t spend enough time with the man to know much about him. It would take years to do that at the rate they were going.

 

Not that Barry expected anything from...whatever this was with Len. He didn’t.

 

Lisa smirked. “Cute.”

 

And _what_? What was cute? Was she saying he was cute? That the situation was cute? That the fact he spent so much time with her brother was cute? Was his confusion on everything to do with the Snart siblings cute?

 

Fuck, the ability to completely confound Barry ran in the family. He could only imagine what it would be like to meet the parents.

 

Not that he had any intention of doing that.

 

Were Len’s parents still alive?

 

Pushing those thoughts to the side, Barry huffed out a laugh. “Uh, so, yeah. Len won’t be back for a few days, at least? You could probably try calling him, but he said only to call him if—”

 

Lisa’s grin widened again and Barry had the distinct feeling that he was saying all the wrong things. Len was going to murder him.

 

“—if, uh,” Barry cleared his throat. “If it was an emergency?”

 

The brunette leaned back on the counter, crossing her arms and tilting her head to the side. Her expression went through an array of emotions before it settled back on curious amusement. “You have his number, then?”

 

“I—” Barry was getting really tired of stumbling over his words in front of Len and his family. Why did they always make him feel so anxious? “Not really.” When she raised her eyebrows, he quickly continued, “He left a number behind the register in case of emergencies.”

 

Lisa glanced around until she found the note taped to the register and tore it off, glancing over it briefly before she handed it to Barry, who stared at it in bemusement. “Call him.”

 

“Now?” Barry squeaked, glancing up at her.

 

“No,” Lisa answered shortly, reaching for his hand and pressing the paper against his palm. Her lips quirked as she held his gaze and ordered, “Tonight. When you’re alone.”

 

Barry’s mouth went dry at the implications and he stuttered a moment, staring at her in surprise. Was she serious?

 

She smirked, waiting until his hand curled around the note before letting go of his hand. She gave him one last evaluating gaze before turning and sauntering toward the door. “Tell him I said hi.”

 

She turned at the door, blowing a kiss to Cisco and Caitlin before grabbing the back of Sara’s neck and pulling her along. Patty muttered a soft goodbye and followed. And Barry...well, Barry had no idea what to think about any of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. GUYS GUYS GUYS. THIS CHAPTER. *SINGS* This was one of the chapters I had the most fun writing and I think it had a lot to do with Lisa's sassiness and her ability to absolutely terrify Barry. And Sara/Lisa (lisara / goldencanary) is my crackship, man. There will inevitably be a short series branching off this fic for those two because Biker!Lisa and Biker!Sara? Hell yes. I need more of it in my life.
> 
> Anyway! I'm curious to see what you all think of this chapter and Barry's interaction with Lisa. Alsooo, what do you think Barry will do? Do you think he'll actually call Len? Or do you think he'll chicken out? Let me tell you, the next chapter drags out a bit, but it ends on a pretty good note...and chapter 9, OH MAN. THAT CHAPTER. I nearly died while writing it last night. It's 1,000 words longer than my chapters usually are...so...that's something.
> 
> There will definitely be more of this fic to come soon because I'm already working on chapter 10 and it's about halfway done...fingers crossed I get it done tomorrow (or tonight) in between homework. :D
> 
> Also, feel free to come find me on [Tumblr](http://areyoucoldflash.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](http://twitter.com/areyoucoldflash). I post/tweet spoilers occasionally as I'm writing. More often than not, I'll post them to Twitter, but I do post them to Tumblr too. xD Come talk to me about the fic, your headcanons, or about Coldflash (or the whiteglider ship you didn't know you needed).


	7. Burned Hand and Sleep Deprivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Barry thinks about making that phone call...

Barry stumbled into his bedroom around one in the morning, having spent the later part of his evening attending to Flash duties. He was just about to get ready to crash for the night when he remembered he still had Len's number in his pocket. He dug it out and stared tiredly at it for a moment before setting it down on his dresser while he changed.  
  
He wasn't going to lie, he was incredibly curious about what Len was up to and the temptation to do exactly what Lisa told him had his fingers twitching toward his phone.   
  
He sighed and collapsed onto his bed, the paper between his fingers. This was ridiculous. It was 1am. What would he even say? Len had specifically told him only to call if it was an emergency. Only if he had to. Did he have to?   
  
No, Barry decided. He didn't. So, he was going to set the paper down and get some sleep. He had to get up early the next day anyway. Something about bakeries and six in the morning.   
  
He groaned and tossed the paper onto the nightstand next to his phone, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow. He hated mornings.   
  
~*~   
  
Barry hated mornings, but he hated mornings without coffee more. And this whole "bakery without a coffee machine" business? It was going to be the death of him. He'd already tried to flash away for a few minutes to get a coffee at Jitters, but every time he tried, another customer would walk in and Barry would have to smile like he wasn't dying on the inside.   
  
He was going to have a chat with Len about this when he got back. Who doesn't get through their day without drinking at least two cups of coffee? Maybe it was a bad habit Barry had picked up in college, but he was pretty sure it was normal. Len not drinking coffee? That wasn't normal.   
  
He had half a mind to pull out his phone, pull up the number he'd saved last night, and call Len to give him a piece of his mind. But he wouldn't do that. Only in case of an emergency, Barry reminded himself as he took some scones out of the oven to cool.   
  
He, however, had very nearly fallen asleep that morning while sticking the first batch of donuts and muffins into the ovens. Surely that counted as an emergency, right? An almost-emergency at least.   
  
"Barry?"   
  
Barry spun on his heel and zipped to the front counter without thinking, only realizing what he'd done when Iris's wide and panicked eyes stared back at him. His heart stopped and he looked around, relaxing when he saw that they were alone. He slumped forward onto the counter, resting his face on his hands and pouting at his best friend. "Iris, I'm not gonna make it."   
  
Iris eyed him, a concerned frown playing at her lips. She pushed some hair from his face and sighed. "Did you get any sleep last night?"   
  
"Not much," he admitted, letting his eyes drift closed. Maybe he could just take a minute. Relax.   
  
Iris chuckled and ruffled his hair.   
  
Barry felt something hit his arm and opened his eyes, blinking blearily at the coffee she slid toward him.   
  
"Oh, thank god," he sighed in relief and grabbed the cup, taking large and greedy gulps of the cooling beverage that left his mouth and chest feeling warm. If Eddie wasn't already marrying Iris, Barry may have proposed to her on the spot. She was a saint. A godsend.   
  
"So, I hear you and Len have been getting close."   
  
She was evil. Pure evil. This wasn't compassion, this was bribery.   
  
Barry shrugged. She was just lucky that coffee was one of his weaknesses. He would tell her whatever she wanted to know for a cup of coffee. Although, he wasn't sure he had the juicy details she was hoping for. "I guess?"   
  
"You guess," she repeated with a raise of her eyebrows. "Barry, he left you in charge of his bakery. He clearly trusts you."   
  
Huh. Barry hadn't...well, okay, he had thought about that a lot, actually. He couldn't figure out what anything meant when it came to Len. Nothing the man did made any sense. One minute Len would be manhandling him across a bar or yelling at him for doing something wrong and the next he was shoving cupcakes into Barry's face and thanking him for helping the kids at Safe Haven. His signals weren't exactly cohesive.   
  
"Well, yeah, but--"   
  
"Have you heard from him since he left?" She questioned, taking a sip of her own coffee.   
  
"No," Barry frowned. Should he have heard from Len? Len hadn't said he would call. "But I met his sister."   
  
"Wait," Iris raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean you met his sister?"   
  
"Exactly what I said," Barry, now that he had a little caffeine in him, was starting to feel a little more alert. He stood up straight and motioned toward the door. "She came in here yesterday with her friends."   
  
He was still trying to figure out how the two of them were related. Smugness and good looks aside, they were nothing alike. Or maybe they were. Barry hadn’t exactly gotten to know Len well enough yet.   
  
"What did she want?"   
  
"She seemed," he paused, debating his words. "Surprised that he was out of town, actually."   
  
"Really?" Iris shrugged. "Well, I mean, I guess siblings don't tell each other everything. There are plenty of things I haven't told you."   
  
Barry nodded. "Yeah. Hey! Wait, what haven't you told me?"   
  
Iris chuckled, eyes twinkling. "Oh, don't act like there are things you haven't told me."   
  
Well, yeah. There were plenty of things. He was the Flash. But Iris? What was her excuse?   
  
He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "I'm pretty honest with you, actually."   
  
"Really," she stated flatly, narrowing her eyes. "So Leonard didn't leave you his phone number and tell you to call him?"   
  
"How did--" He was going to kill Caitlin. "No! He only left it for emergencies. How much did Caitlin tell you?"   
  
She smiled from behind her cup. "Enough." She took a sip, leaning her hip on the counter. "Are you going to call him?"   
  
"No!" he huffed, running a hand through his hair. "He was pretty specific about only calling if I needed to."   
  
"If you need to?" she questioned. "Were those his exact words?"   
  
"Yes!" Barry might have been tired at the time, but he remembered what Len said. He'd said it twice, after all.   
  
She rolled her eyes at him and took out her phone to check the time. "You should call him." Before he could argue, she swore under her breath. "Look, Barr, I've gotta get back to work. I'll talk to you later, okay?" She paused. "And don't burn the place down, okay? Is something burning?"   
  
Barry swore and zipped back into the kitchen, pulling a pan of brownies from the oven with his bare hand. He swore again and dropped the pan onto the stove, rushing over to the sink and running the hand under cold water. He was so glad he healed faster than normal, otherwise he'd really have regretted that. Not that he was too thrilled about it, but it could have been worse.   
  
Barry heard Iris laughing and yelling goodbye before he heard the front door slam shut. Barry sighed and leaned his weight onto the sink, running his hand through his hair and staring ashamedly at his inflamed hand. Taking over for Len was such a mistake.   
  
~*~   
  
_You should call him. Tonight. When you're alone._   
  
The words kept echoing through his mind as he laid awake into the early hours of the morning. His eyes drifted to the clock that read 1:07am and then to his hand. The skin was still a little red, but it was mostly healed, not nearly as sore as it had been. He wasn’t entirely concerned about it. He'd had worse injuries.   
  
Turning over onto his side, he reached for his phone and checked his messages. A few texts from Cisco about a potential meta problem they'd have to address soon, a message from Iris asking if he'd burned down the bakery yet, and a message from Caitlin apologizing for telling Iris about Len.   
  
He frowned at his phone, not having responded to anyone since he got home from his shift. He was exhausted. He hadn't realized just how demanding the job would be when Len asked him to take over. He figured it'd be easy -- toss a few things in the oven, be friendly to customers, and keep product stocked. But it was more than that. It was long hours of walking in and out of the kitchen, placating irritated customers, sitting through long conversations with the elder customers while trying to excuse himself to take something out of the oven. It was sweeping and mopping and burning and eating between customers.   
  
It was exhausting.   
  
He sighed and pulled up a new message, scrolling through his contacts until he found the right number.   
  
 [I hate baking.]  
  
He shoved his phone to the side and buried his face in his pillow, not expecting a response. After all, it was one in the morning. Surely Len would be sleeping. Any sane person that was used to such an early wake up call would be asleep right now. Barry was not one of them.   
  
He was incredibly surprised, however, when he felt his phone vibrate against his hand. He pawed at it for a moment, trying to get his fingers to work properly, before he blinked drowsily at the screen.   
  
[Barry?]  
  
Barry snorted. Who else would it be?   
  
[Yeah.]  
  
He set his phone back down and closed his eyes, figuring he could nod off for a little bit in between texts. When his phone vibrated with an incoming call, Barry's heart seized.   
  
He fumbled with his phone in his haste to answer and nearly missed the call before he finally managed a croaked, "Hello?"   
  
"You're not still at the bakery, are you?"   
  
Barry stifled a yawn and smushed his face against his pillow, letting his eyes drift closed. "No. Home. Can't sleep."   
  
There was a brief pause and a slight shuffling on the other end. After a moment, Len sighed. "Not as easy as it looks, is it, kid?"   
  
It took a moment for Barry to realize they were talking about running the bakery. He hummed. "No. Don't know how you do it, Len."   
  
Len chuckled. "Practice. It's a craft, Barry. Something you have to perfect over time."   
  
Len's voice sounded slow, drawling more in what Barry assumed to be a sleep-addled state. There was also a gruffness to his voice that wasn't there during the day and Barry found himself wanting to hear more of it.   
  
"When are you coming home?" he questioned, his voice sounding loud in the quiet house despite how low his voice was. It had been a while since he'd stayed up until odd hours of the night talking on the phone with someone. It almost felt nice. Well, it did, actually. This was nice.   
  
Len was quiet for a moment, maybe thinking it over, before he mumbled, "Soon. Mick and I have to...take care of a few things and then we'll be back. Should only take another day."   
  
Barry snuggled down into his covers, tugging his blanket up over his shoulders. He was burning with curiosity about what Len was up to and the question slipped out before he could really think about it, "What are you guys doing again?"   
  
"That's--" Len paused, seeming to consider his words. "Need to know information, kid."   
  
Barry frowned. Didn't he need to know? He was the one watching the bakery for Len while he did...whatever it was he was doing. Surely he at least deserved to know what Len was up to?   
  
Instead of arguing this point though, Barry nodded, "'Kay."   
  
Barry heard Len exhale deeply from the other end, wondered what time it was.   
  
"You should sleep, Barry," Len suggested quietly. "You need to be up in a few hours."   
  
Barry grunted. He knew that. He wished he didn't have obligations, but he'd made a commitment. Barry wasn't one to go back on his word, even if he was dying of sleep deprivation. "Mhm."   
  
"Sleep, Barry," Len ordered softly.   
  
Barry was already halfway there, but before he could drift off completely, he muttered, "Len, there's a problem with the bakery."   
  
There was a frustrated sigh. "What?"   
  
"It needs a coffee maker," Barry murmured, feeling the sleep already starting to ease in.   
  
Len's answering laughter made Barry smile. "I'll see what I can do."   
  
"'Kay," Barry slurred. "'Night, Len."   
  
Len sighed fondly, "G'night, Barry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY! xoxox
> 
> So, as you may have noticed, I did change the rating of this fic to explicit. I will be updating the tags occasionally as I write (even if it hasn't happened in the chapters I've posted yet). If you guys notice anything that needs to be added then please let me know! Both chapter 9 and chapter 10 are longer than my chapters usually are and I, admittedly, stayed up until 7:30 this morning working on chapter 10...I mean, what? xD 
> 
> For anyone wondering, Len will make a bigger appearance in the next chapter. o:)
> 
> Thank you all for the comments, kudos, and subscriptions. This has easily become my most popular fic on here and I'm absolutely flabbergasted by the response. 
> 
> I just wanted to give a brief acknowledgement (and disclaimer) to [Sweet Passion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5032363/chapters/11567485) by kipsi. I hadn't read the fic before starting this one and when I found it I noticed a lot of overlap between the two fics. I just wanted to say that I had no intention of copying any ideas from anyone (aside from the references I make throughout the fic to other stories). I've only read the first chapter of kipsi's fic so far, so I have no idea how much our stories have in common, but I just wanted to say I didn't copy the idea for this fic from anyone. I do, however, fully intend to read kipsi's fic because I need more baker!Len in my life. You guys should all go check it out too if you haven't already! I guess, by complete accident, my fic contains a lot of references to that story. x)


	8. Espresso and Salad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Barry is consistently surprised by Len...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for all the kudos, comments, etc. You guys are blowing my mind, honestly. You have no idea how happy it makes me to have people read my writing. You're all incredible<3

When Len came back the next evening, he didn’t bring a coffee maker, but he did bring something else.

 

Barry was just getting ready to close up when Len came in through the back door with a hand truck.

 

Barry paused and stared with wide eyes, not expecting him to be back until the next day. When his eyes drifted down to the box Len had wheeled in, he couldn’t help but grin. “You bought an espresso machine?”

 

Len offered him a small, unwilling smile. “Someone told me we needed one.”

 

Barry’s grin widened. “Huh, smart guy.”

 

Barry eyed the box with eager interest, raising his eyebrows. It looked like the kind of machine he’d seen in Jitters. It certainly couldn’t be cheap. He laughed lightly. “Ah, when I said the place needed a coffee maker, I was thinking more along the lines of a Keurig. How much did this thing cost?”

 

Len hummed, moving the box off to the side to deal with later. “Nothing I couldn’t afford.” His gaze drifted around the kitchen, a little relieved to see everything still standing. “I see you managed not to burn the place down.”

 

“Seriously?” Barry squawked indignantly. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

 

Len smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“Iris said the same thing,” Barry clarified, feeling his cheeks heat up under the older man’s curious gaze.

 

“I can’t speak for your friend,” Len muttered with a shrug. “But maybe it has to do with your tendency of being late.”

 

“My--” Barry huffed, throwing his hands up. “I’m not always late!” At Len’s disbelieving gaze, he held up a finger. “Once. I only opened the bakery late once while you were gone.”

 

“Only once?” the older man questioned, taking a deliberate step forward and narrowing his eyes.

 

Barry floundered, crossing his arms and then uncrossing them, sticking his hands in his pockets and then taking them out again. Damn it, how did Len do that? “Okay, fine! Twice! But I was only late this morning because--”

 

Because he’d been on the phone with Len the night before.

 

Realizing the reason himself, Len’s smugness dissipated and his smile softened. After a beat of eye contact that left Len feeling entirely too restless, Len moved to the pantry and pulled out the ingredients he’d need the next day. “How was business while I was gone?”

 

Barry hopped onto Len’s workspace and fiddled with his phone. “Fine. Mrs. Bourque was worried about you.”

 

Len snorted, coming out of the pantry with a cart full of ingredients. Old Mrs. Bourque lived in the apartment building next door and had been coming to the bakery ever since it opened. She had made it her personal goal in life to worry about Len’s well-being. It hadn’t gotten to the point of meddling in his personal life, but it was only a matter of time. “She must have been devastated that I was gone.”

 

Barry nodded emphatically, the bright grin on his face that Len had oddly missed. “She likes to talk. I almost burned a batch of cookies the first time she came in.”

 

Len frowned. He probably should have warned Barry about that. Mrs. Bourque tended to come in at about the same time every day and Len had gotten used to planning his baking around her visits. “Any customers give you a hard time?”

 

Barry shook his head. “Nah. A few were unhappy about the prices—” Cisco. “—but, for the most part, people were civil.”

 

Except for that one metahuman who had threatened to burn the entire establishment to the ground if he didn’t get his morning donut. But...Len didn’t need to know about that one. Especially when Barry had used...less than ethical methods to deter him. Len definitely wouldn’t be seeing that customer again…

 

Len fiddled with things around the kitchen, putting them back in order, and watched as an array of emotions flitted over Barry’s face. He couldn’t tell what was going through the kid’s mind, but he felt curious when Barry’s bottom lip found its way into his mouth. Len cleared his throat and glanced away.

 

“And, uh,” Barry began, regaining Len’s attention.

 

The kid was scratching at the back of his neck and Len frowned, setting the dirty pans in the sink to be dealt with in the morning.

 

“So,” Barry began again with a small laugh. “I might have — ah, I might have met your sister?”

 

Len froze, his jaw clenching. What did he mean, he _might have_ _met_ his sister? He turned very slowly toward Barry, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

 

Barry quickly continued, “She stopped by...the day you left, I think? With her...friends?”

 

Len breathed evenly through his nose, trying to read the kid’s body language. So, he had met Lisa. That was just _peachy_. He sighed. “Did she say what she wanted?”

 

Barry glanced up at him, eyes wide and a little bewildered. “Ah, no, actually. I think she just wanted to see you.” He searched Len’s face. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

 

“Didn’t come up,” the older man grunted, finished cleaning up, and grabbed the box of leftover food off the counter. He made his way out front, not waiting for Barry to follow but knowing he would.

 

Barry scrambled after him, killing the lights as he went. “She seems...nice.”

 

Len snorted. He’d heard people use a lot of words to describe his sister, but nice wasn’t one of them.

 

“Nice,” Len echoed, glancing at him. “Really.”

 

Barry blushed. “Terrifying might be more accurate, actually.”

 

Len chuckled, letting Barry lock up while he waited on the sidewalk. “Oddly, I think she’d be thrilled to hear you say that.”

 

“I—” Barry paused, fiddling with the lock before turning to him in a huff, running a hand through his hair. “—don’t doubt that.”

 

If Len looked hard enough, he could see just how exhausted Barry was. There were bags under his eyes and his eyes were bordering on bloodshot. Len frowned. Maybe asking him for help had been a mistake. He'd managed to take care of the place, but at what cost?

 

As they began down the sidewalk, Len stared ahead with furrowed eyebrows. He only managed to run the bakery because he’d been doing it for over a year. It was like second nature to him now.

 

“Sorry I was gone so long,” Len apologized finally, interrupting a story of Barry’s that he hadn’t really been listening to. He glanced sideways and smiled apologetically. “But thank you. For helping.”

 

Barry eyed him, unable to make much sense of his expression in the dim streetlights.

 

“I was happy to help,” Barry said honestly with a small shrug. “Plus, you weren’t gone that long.”

 

They lapsed into an amiable silence and Len observed someone on the other side of the street, slinking through the shadows. His jaw twitched in slight anticipation, his fingers curling against the box in his arms, until the person entered one of the apartment buildings and was out of sight. Len relaxed, fingers uncurling and shoulders falling. He was tired too, but for entirely different reasons than Barry.

 

He glanced at the kid as he came to a stop and lifted an eyebrow. Barry grinned and held up the bakery keys, glancing toward Len’s apartment building. Had they really walked all that way already? And here he was, just starting to enjoy Barry’s presence again.

 

His mind raced for an excuse to see the kid again, contemplated inviting him up to his apartment. But it was late and they were both tired. An invitation like that would imply an invitation to stay. He wasn’t sure either of them were quite ready for that yet. Not like this. Not now.

 

He took the keys off Barry with a half-smile. “I still owe you cupcakes.”

 

Barry’s hand went to his stomach, as if nursing a stomach ache. “Ugh, no. I don’t think I can handle any more of those for a while. I—” He paused, his cheeks turning an inviting shade of red.

 

Len’s eyes dipped down to his shirt collar, where the blush disappeared beneath the blue cotton.

 

“—may have finished the platter you left.”

 

Len’s eyes snapped up to Barry’s face, his eyes going wide. He’d _finished_ them? There had to have been at least thirty of those when Len left. Where the hell did the kid put it all?

 

Barry’s blush deepened as he gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “I think I need a break from — you know, sugar, in general.”

 

A break from sugar. Not a break from the bakery. Not a break from Len. Thank fuck Len wouldn’t have to return that God-awful espresso maker.

 

He shrugged. “So, I’ll make you something else.”

 

His eyes drifted down Barry, drinking in his long, thin frame cloaked in a simple t-shirt and skinny jeans. He glanced back up, smirking at the blush that returned to the kid’s cheeks. “You work tomorrow?”

 

Barry shifted nervously and cleared his throat. “No? I didn’t know when you’d be back so I kinda took the week off…”

 

Huh. So, Barry had been willing to look after the place for a whole week. A terrifying thought, but interesting.

 

Len nodded, shifting the box in his arms and making his way to the front door. “Good.”

 

He glanced back at Barry, seeing the kid’s eyes widen. Len smirked, unlocking the door. “You should stop by tomorrow. I’ll have something less sugary for you.”

 

With his shoulder holding the door open, he looked back at Barry, seeing the kid deep in thought. He quirked an eyebrow. “Unless you’d like to come up, of course.”

 

“Uh,” Barry stammered, his skin turning an impossible shade of red. It made Len want to _touch_ , to see if it was as hot as it looked. “Wh—what? I mean, you—”

 

Len snorted. “Don’t hurt yourself, kid. It was only an invitation for dinner.”

 

“Dinner?” Barry questioned, his voice quiet, even in the silence of the streets.

 

Len eyed him. “Yeah. Have you eaten yet?”

 

Barry had eaten. Cupcakes. He doubted that qualified though. But...what was Len offering here? What was this, exactly? He shook his head in reply.

 

The older man stared at him, waiting. “The offer still stands.”

 

“Oh! Uh,” Barry cleared his throat and glanced past Len into the building, his eyebrows pulling together. He knew Len had to work in the morning. He, himself, was exhausted. Was going up to Len’s apartment really wise? “Sure?”

 

He definitely had not meant to say that, but now that it was out there, he couldn’t take it back. Could he? He looked at Len, whose lips spread into a tiny smile as he stepped to the side and held the door open for him.

 

No, he definitely couldn't take it back. He didn't _want_ to.

 

Barry followed him into the building and up the stairs, noticing that there was no elevator and the staircase was pretty steep. No more overloading Len with clothes then. Not that he had anything left to donate, but. If he found something, he would be carrying it himself.

 

Not that he was already planning his next trip to Len’s apartment. Or trying to think of a reason to come back. He’d just got there, after all.

 

Stepping into Len’s apartment set a whole new swarm of nerves loose in Barry’s stomach that made him feel jittery.

 

Vibrating. He was vibrating. _Shit_.

 

Stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets, he turned sharply toward Len, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

 

Len set the box of food on his kitchen counter and kicked the door closed, turning to him with an expression Barry couldn’t quite read. Observing the kid for a moment, Len nodded to himself and went to the fridge, grabbing a beer. “Beer?”

 

He couldn’t get drunk. The beer had no effect on him. How would he ever explain that? He would just have one, he decided. One had never done much to him anyway. Just made him calmer...which would have really come in handy right about now. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

 

He reached out a hand to grab the beer, horrified when his hand continued to move at hyper-speed. He shoved it back in his pocket with wide eyes. “Uh, you know what, on second thought, I’m good.” At Len’s bemusement, Barry mumbled a half-assed excuse, “It’ll make me tired.”

 

Len eyed him closely, but seemed to accept the excuse. He shrugged and cracked open the beer for himself, taking a long gulp that had Barry’s eyes watching the movement of his adam’s apple. He set the can on the sideboard and motioned toward the table. “Sit.”

 

Barry did as he was told, probably a little too quickly, and caught the sly tilt of Len’s lips. He needed to _calm down_. It was just Len’s apartment. It was just his home. Where he slept. And did...other things. Okay, not helping.

 

“What do you like to eat, kid?” Len questioned, shrugging out of his leather jacket. He draped it over one of the chairs and, in the better lighting of Len’s apartment, Barry’s eyes caught the design of the t-shirt.

 

Barry faltered, eyes going wide. Was that— “That shirt.”

 

Len glanced down at the white shirt he was wearing, smirking at the animated cupcake that was running and working up a sweat. The words “run fast” were beneath its bright orange shoes and tiny, stick figure legs. “Oh, this?”

 

“It — that was — you —” Barry struggled, his mind racing. Had Len really stolen—

 

“Was yours? I took it?” the older man supplied, filling in the blanks. He gripped the back of the chair and leaned forward. “Don’t mind, do you?”

 

“N—no, of course not,” Barry blinked, his eyes raking over the shirt. Len filled it out a lot more than Barry did, his shoulders more broad and pecs much more defined. It was a little snug around the taut muscles, but...Barry couldn’t say he _minded_. He definitely looked better in it than Barry ever had. And the shirt had been...well, it had been a gag gift for his birthday a couple months ago, when Barry was complaining he hadn’t gotten any cupcakes for his birthday. Barry wasn’t sure how Cisco would feel about seeing it on Len, but Barry...yeah, Barry definitely didn’t mind.

 

“Good. So, what should we have?”

 

Barry blinked out of his daze when Len turned back to the fridge. “Uh, I could go for anything.” At Len’s smirk and raised eyebrow, Barry cleared his throat and quickly rephrased, “I mean, I’m not picky! With food. I like just about anything.”

 

“Just about,” Len echoed, closing the fridge after pulling out a few vegetables. The kid had said he needed a break from sugar. He couldn’t go wrong with salad, could he? He began dicing some vegetables and tossed some of the pre-cooked chicken Lisa always hated into a frying pan with some bacon. He never claimed to be a _good_ cook. That was, oddly, more Mick’s area, but he could make a few things. Salad happened to be one of them.

 

“So, uh,” the kid began, mouth already watering as the aroma of bacon and chicken filled the room. He watched Len’s experienced hands slice into the vegetables, noticing the nimble way he handled the food. The familiarity of watching Len work quieted his nerves, his hands finally calming enough for him to take them out of his pockets. “How was your trip?”

 

Len lifted a shoulder noncommittally, focused on the task at hand. “Fine.”

 

Barry frowned, noticing the slight tension in Len's shoulders. "Was it a long drive?"   
  
As obvious as it was that Len didn't want to talk about why he'd left, Barry couldn't help but want to know more. He was curious. And a bit concerned about why Len wouldn’t tell him, why Mick called him “boss” when they’d left, and what was really in those bags they’d brought with them — because as much as Barry didn’t want to acknowledge it, there were far too many bags for the amount of clothes they’d needed for only three days.   
  
"Not too far," Len finally answered, moving back to the fridge to get the lettuce. He got a bowl from the cupboard and busied himself with tossing the salad, chopping up the chicken and bacon to go over the top.   
  
Not too far meant a neighboring city. Or maybe it meant they'd taken a plane. Or a train. There were a lot of things it could mean, Barry realized, and Len wasn't exactly being too forthcoming with information. However, he wasn't entirely sure what else he could talk about. Len didn't share much with Barry.   
  
"I hope salad is okay," Len murmured, placing a plate and glass of water in front of him. He set the half-empty bowl in the middle of the table and took a seat across from him. He popped open a fresh beer and Barry couldn't help but eye the tattoos on the man's forearm as his lifted the can to his lips.   
  
"Salad is fine," Barry answered quietly, his voice probably too low, but Len nodded in acknowledgment. The younger man drew his attention away and tried a bite of food, surprised that there was some sort of dressing. It tasted like a basic vinaigrette, but sweeter than Barry expected. He didn't find it entirely surprising that Len liked things a little sweet.   
  
For a while, the two of them sat in silence, and Barry couldn't decide if it was awkward or if he was just projecting his feelings onto the situation. His gaze kept drifting to Len, who kept eyeing him in return, but every time he opened his mouth to break the silence, he shoved another bite of food in his mouth instead   
  
Eventually, that small savior was gone and his plate was empty. He contemplated spooning some more salad onto his plate -- he really hadn't eaten much that day -- but he refrained, figuring he'd imposed on the older man long enough.   
  
Folding his hands in his lap, he caught Len's eye and offered a small smile. "Thank you...for dinner."   
  
Len shrugged, relaxing back in his chair, one hand on his beer. He looked ridiculous with Barry's shirt on, but Barry appreciated the view nevertheless. "It's the least I could do after you kept up shop for me, kid."   
  
Barry frowned at the insistent nickname, but smothered it with a fake yawn that quickly turned into a real one. He stifled it with his hand and blinked blearily. "Sorry. Full stomach, long day."   
  
Len smiled slightly, his gaze softening when he remembered how stilted Barry talked the other night when he was half-asleep on the phone with him. Apparently, Barry spoke in sentence fragments when he was tired. The poor kid was probably running on empty.   
  
He glanced up at the clock on the wall, his eyes widening when he saw it was nearing midnight. "It's no wonder you're tired."   
  
Barry followed his gaze and jolted upright. "Shit. Is that really the time?"   
  
The older man eyed him with a frown when he stumbled to his feet. "Thought you said you don't work tomorrow."   
  
The kid glanced at him. "No, I don't. I just--"   
  
"You have a curfew or something?" Len asked, unable to stop himself. He knew it was a bit of a jab at the kid -- _Barry's_ age, but he was trying to remind himself that Barry was nearly half his age. Besides, he wasn't even sure if Barry was...well, okay, he knew Barry had to at least be _interested_ in him with the way he always looked at him, but...it would be nice to have actual confirmation. Not that he'd act on it if he did. Half his age. Not off limits, but young enough to want someone without graying hair.   
  
Barry's cheeks turned that pleasant shade of red again and Len's fingers twitched around his beer can. "Well, no, obviously not. I'm -- I just still live with Joe, my foster dad, and he's always working odd hours and doesn't get nearly enough sleep--not as much as he should anyway and--"   
  
"Barry," Len cut him off, trying to absorb some of the information he'd just been told and knowing they'd be there for awhile if he let Barry go on. He offered the kid a kind smile. "I was messing with you."   
  
He got to his feet and took the plates to the sink so Barry wouldn't see his slight disappointment about their night coming to an end.   
  
"Right," the younger man stated. "I knew that."   
  
Len snorted and turned back to him, leaning back against the counter. When Barry didn't say anything or make a move to leave, Len murmured, "I have a few things I'd like you to try, if you're interested." At Barry's caught-in-the-headlights look, Len withheld a sigh and reiterated, "At the bakery."   
  
"Oh! Yeah!" Barry said enthusiastically, finally moving toward the door, albeit slowly. "Sure! I'll stop by tomorrow? Or the day after? One of the two!"   
  
Len watched him flounder and stifled his smirk. "Come by whenever you're free. I’ll be there."   
  
"Yeah," Barry laughed breathily. "Okay. Uh, goodnight? Thanks -- again, for dinner."   
  
"Goodnight, Barry," Len drawled, seeing him to the door. "Come by anytime."   
  
And as Barry nodded jerkily and rushed out the door, Len was a little surprised at how much he actually meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I totally thought I already uploaded this chapter and very nearly uploaded chapter 10 instead. I'm really glad that I caught it in time because you guys would have been verrrrry confused if I didn't. xD Then I was going to update last night from my phone, but realized I didn't have a picture of Barry's shirt on there, so I couldn't include it in the author's note (it's in the paragraph below), so I waited and now HERE IT IS!
> 
> As you can probably tell, Barry has Len wrapped around his finger at the moment. I mean, come on, the man wouldn't just go buy a thousand dollar espresso machine (that he didn't even _want_ ) for anyone (except maybe if it somehow benefited the homeless shelter). As for Barry, he doesn't quite know what to think of...whatever this is yet. And what even is this? I mean, the man is wearing Barry's shirt ([depicted here](http://www.meanestmanindieting.com/Products/RedCupcake_Shirt.jpg)). What does _that_ mean??? And LEN, oh my gosh, don't get me started on that man. He's clearly head over heals for this...this _kid_ , but he thinks he's too old for him, too experienced, just...too _much_. *SIGHS*
> 
> I don't know if anyone's noticed, but I have now made this part of a series, which I've titled [Earth 3](http://archiveofourown.org/series/409401). So far, I have this story and [Hell On Wheels](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6041212) (Sara/Lisa) in it, but will probably add a story about Len's background there at some point (and maybe anything else you guys want to see in the universe I'm working with, I'm 100% open for suggestions). 
> 
> But YES! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Get ready for some angst and anger because that's bound to happen within the next half of this fic (because it's at that point, my friends...it can't be all cupcakes and rainbows forever). :P 
> 
> Also...the next chapter maaaay contain a bit of smut. Maaaaybe. Except I've totally already written it, so it definitely does.
> 
> **IMPORTANT SIDENOTE:**
> 
> **This may be a bit of a spoiler, but I want to warn everyone about chapter 11. Chapter 11 will include references to the rape of a minor and will contain a somewhat graphic abuse scene. I realize that this could be triggering to some people, so I will update the tags accordingly and will continue to leave these warnings in the notes until after the chapter is posted. I want everyone to know that I 100% do not condone the actions of some of the characters in this fic and have written the scene in a way that there's no doubt that what is happening is wrong. Rape is always wrong, no matter how you look at it, and taking advantage of a minor is also wrong. I will continue to leave warnings in the notes and I will update the tags. If, by chance, I miss anything, _please_ let me know so I can fix it. I want this to be a safe reading experience for everyone.**


	9. Marriage Proposals and Back Alleyways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry finally works up the nerve to ask Len out...sort of...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a small warning, there is a steamy scene in this...not that that should surprise anyone. I changed the rating of this fic to explicit. :')

Barry didn’t go directly to the bakery the next morning. Instead, he spent the majority of the day coming up with excuses not to go. He cleaned his room, scrubbed the kitchen, did the laundry (even Joe’s), went grocery shopping, had lunch with Iris, harassed Joe and Eddie at the precinct, did some lab work when he was caught loitering by Captain Singh, bugged Cisco and Caitlin about the lack of metahuman activity (he never thought he’d see the day there wasn’t _someone_ terrorizing the city), and then — and only then — did he even think about going to the bakery.

 

Okay, so that was a lie. He’d been thinking about it since the moment he got up that morning, fizzling with an excited energy he didn’t know how to get rid of. He tried running, he tried speeding through his chores, he tried focusing on other things. Nothing seemed to be working. Finally, he just gave into the urge and went to see Len, which ended up being a little before five that evening, when the bakery was uncommonly busy.

 

Seeing the crowded sales floor, Barry jumped into the chaos easily enough, slipping behind the counter with smiles and pleasantries to the irate customers who _just wanted their bread and pre-made sandwiches, okay_? Barry did his best to placate them and turned toward the kitchen when Len came out, looking a little peeved. His expression, upon seeing Barry, softened and the two nodded in silent agreement.

 

Barry’s smile widened and he returned to the customers, letting Len go back to juggling between making new product and filling the display cases.

 

By the time the rush finally died down, an hour and a half had already gone by and Barry felt some of his excess energy evade him. He leaned forward onto the counter as the last customer finally went out the door. It was amazing how quickly the place could exhaust him.

 

Len came out from the kitchen, offering Barry a small smile and a cup of espresso. Not really needing the caffeine but not wanting to be rude (and honestly being pretty excited about trying something new), Barry accepted the drink. Before he could take his first sip, though, Len handed him a small glass of sparkling water.

 

“It cleanses the palate,” Len uttered with a shrug. And who was Barry to argue? He’d never had espresso before. He figured Len knew more about it than he did.

 

He took a brief sip of the water before raising the espresso to his lips, inhaling the fresh scent of coffee beans before taking his first sip. His initial taste of the foam was bitter and not entirely pleasant to his palate, but as the liquid hit his tongue, he was surprised by the flavor. It was still bitter, but not nearly as overwhelming as the froth, and it was rich, deep, and sweet, a hint of chocolate ghosting over his tongue.

 

He was highly aware of Len watching him and finished the shot in one last swallow, nodding in approval. “Wow, that’s good.”

 

Len smiled — a genuinely pleased smile that Barry had only seen a handful of times when Barry complimented a new product. “Good.”

 

He motioned for Barry to follow him into the kitchen.

 

“I made something for you,” Len murmured, retrieving a loaf of bread from the food racks. He cut a slice and handed it to Barry, offering some butter that he refused.

 

Barry took a small bite of the bread, wondering what was so special about it. To his surprise, it was perfect. It was flaky on the outside, fluffy on the inside, and tasted both salty and sweet. The sweetness was something he hadn’t been expecting, but it was surprisingly delicious. “Is that raspberry I taste?” When Len nodded, he took another bite and hummed, letting his eyes drift closed. “I think I wanna marry you.” He froze mid-chew, his eyes going wide. “Uh—”

 

Len rolled his eyes with a snort, returning to his workspace to finish mixing some ingredients. “At least buy me a drink first, kid.”

 

Barry stared for a moment, a little shocked. Len wasn’t teasing Barry about what he said. At least, not like Barry had been expecting him to. It threw Barry off a little, made him almost come out and say _okay_. Because, yeah, he actually would like that.

 

“Only if you stop calling me kid,” he said instead, grinning when Len’s eyes snapped up to him.

 

The man had frosting on the tips of his fingers and flour up to his elbows, and Barry couldn't help but think he looked pretty damn adorable. A smirk slowly tugged at the edges of the man’s lips and he removed his hands from the frosting he’d been mixing, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. His eyes moved slowly down Barry in a way that Barry couldn’t misinterpret. “You’ll have to prove to me you’re not a kid then, _Barry_.”

 

Barry met his gaze and felt himself flush, a heat traveling all the way down his chest. He noticed Len eyeing him again, more closely this time, and he steadied his shaking hands by shoving them in his jean pockets, a move that didn’t go unnoticed by Len. “Tonight?” At Len’s raised eyebrows, Barry laughed lightly. “The drink, I mean.”

 

Len glanced at the clock on the wall. There were still a few hours left until he was due to close up. He shrugged, setting the towel down on the counter. “I’ll close a little early. Ten thirty okay?”

 

Barry nodded. “Sure, yeah! Sounds good.”

 

Len stifled his smile and returned to his workspace. “Looking forward to it, kid.”

 

Barry groaned and rolled his eyes, turning to leave the kitchen with a wave over his shoulder. “Bye.”

 

He _wasn’t_ a kid.

 

~*~

 

Len didn't know what had possessed him to say yes. Well, technically, he hadn't, but he definitely hadn't said no. If he was being honest, he didn't _want_ to say no. He liked the kid -- _Barry_. Damn it, it was going to be hard to break that habit. But he had to remember that Barry really was still a kid, regardless of how mature he thought he was. He was twenty-six, Len was forty-three. There was almost twenty years between them. That was a whole lot of life, a whole lot of experience, that the younger man didn't have yet.  
  
But he'd been so eager, had been shaking with anticipation, just at the prospect of buying Len a drink. And who was Len to disappoint? Especially when it was something he wanted himself.  
  
Len locked up the bakery early -- something he hadn't done in the year that he'd owned the place -- and quickly made his way home. It was already nearing 10:30, but knowing Barry, he wouldn't be on time anyway. Len figured he had another twenty minutes to kill.  
  
Imagine his surprise when he arrived at his apartment to find Barry leaning against the cool brick, his hands tucked up to the wrists in his jacket pockets, his hair messy and foot fidgeting. Len wondered how long he'd been waiting, how many hours he'd been stirring in anticipation. Len, himself, had had all he could do not to close up and ask Barry to meet him earlier than planned.  
  
He was being ridiculous. He was a man in his forties. He didn't get excited over these things anymore. At least, not usually.  
  
"Right on time, Scarlet," Len drawled as he drew closer, his lips tilting into a smirk.  
  
Barry looked up at him with wide eyes, grinning. "You sound surprised."  
  
"I am," Len admitted. He nodded toward his apartment. "Mind if I wash up before we head out?"  
  
Barry shook his head and followed him into the building, realizing this was the second time in a matter of twenty-four hours that he'd been in Len's apartment. He couldn’t decide if he was more or less nervous this time.  
  
Len unlocked his door and held it open for him before shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it over a chair. "I'm going to shower. Make yourself comfortable." He turned on his way out of the kitchen, smirking. "But not too comfortable."  
  
Barry shook his head at him, but did as he was told, moving further into the apartment. He walked into the small living room and glanced around. He wasn't one for snooping, but there really wasn't much for him to go through anyway. The place seemed empty, like it was only a slightly-lived-in shell. There were no personal touches or family portraits, no decorations on the wall or rugs covering the wooden floors. The only sign that the place was even lived in was the slightly worn couch and the TV set, which both could have easily been left there by a previous owner.  
  
It didn't feel like a home, he realized. He wondered how long Len had been living here and why he'd never bothered to make the place more...comfortable.  
  
He heard the shower running in the bathroom and blew out a sigh, sitting down on Len's couch and relaxing a bit. He didn't know what he'd been thinking when he'd asked Len out. Well, he hadn't, really. He'd just...insinuated that he wouldn't mind buying the man a drink. And he definitely didn't mind. He was more than happy to, delighted even. But he couldn't help but wonder how much he actually knew about the man. They’d spent a lot of time together recently, but he still felt like there were a lot of things he didn't know -- important things. Then again, in the grand scheme of things, they hadn't know each other  _that_ long.  
  
Hearing the shower cut off, Barry got to his feet and tucked his hands back in his pockets. He hadn't been nervous, not really, but now he was starting to get anxious.  
  
"I was joking when I said not to get too comfortable," Len chuckled, coming out of his bedroom a few minutes later in black pants and a navy blue thermal shirt. His hair was still glistening with water and a few drops dripped down his temple before he ran a hand over them, wiping the moisture away.  
  
Barry couldn't help but stare. He'd gotten so used to seeing Len in plain white t-shirts (or Barry's cupcake shirt) and an apron that the new apparel was...well, it was something to see. He smiled. "Yeah, well--" He shrugged, not knowing what to say.  
  
Len smiled, not his smug smirk or his teasing grin, but a genuine smile that reminded Barry of the smile he’d shared with him earlier over espresso. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he looked _fond_. But that was ridiculous, right?  
  
Len tucked his wallet and phone into his pockets and grabbed his jacket off the kitchen chair. "Ready to go?"  
  
"You have an iPhone," Barry observed. And he definitely hadn't been watching Len put it into his back pocket. His eyes had been nowhere near his ass and how fantastic it looked in those jeans.  
  
Len raised an eyebrow. "We iMessaged the other night, Barry."  
  
Barry blinked. "Oh. Right." In his defense, he'd been tired, alright?  
  
Len just shook his head and shrugged on his jacket, leading Barry out of the apartment. He locked up behind them and led Barry down the staircase. "So, where are we headed, ki--Barry?"  
  
Barry grinned and moved to go down the stairs beside him, nudging his arm. "Nice catch. I was thinking we could go to this place not too far from here, Saints and Sinners? You ever been?"  
  
Len was surprised, because of course he'd been, but Barry? He didn't expect a kid -- _guy_ \-- like him to go to a place like that. It wasn't exactly the type of place to go have a beer with friends. Not the type of friends Barry had anyway.  
  
He shrugged. "A few times. You?"  
  
Barry shook his head. "Once, but I didn't stay long."  
  
Not surprising, Len thought, smiling a little to himself. Barry would get eaten alive in a place like that. "So, why now?"  
  
It was Barry's turn to shrug. "It's close. You won't need a DD or a taxi."  
  
Len gave him an appraising look. "You trying to get me drunk?"  
  
Barry just grinned. "Maybe."  
  
So that was how it was going to be. Well, Len had played this game far too many times to come out on the losing end. "Good luck trying."  
  
~*~  
  
Len didn't understand it. He had no fucking clue how the kid was still sober when he was already five sheets to the wind after five beers. Five. Both of them had had five beers.   
  
What was that rule in that new Rebel Wilson movie? If there were...eleven drinks between the both of them they had to screw? He would kill Lisa for making him watch that movie with her. He already knew how to be single. He'd been single for years. He didn't need a movie telling him he was doing it right (or wrong).  
  
"How are you sober?" Len questioned finally, using the kid as a leaning post while the guy they were playing pool against took his shot. He'd been so careful about how much he had to drink, but Barry just kept pounding them back like it was nothing and Len, well, he'd lost count. He'd lost count until he'd counted the empty bottles, that is. He was fairly certain all ten of those bottles were not his. Well, he hoped not anyway.  
  
Barry glanced at him, furrowing his eyebrows. "How do you know I'm sober? I could just be a quiet drunk."  
  
Len gave him a flat look, grabbing a hold of the pool table while Barry moved to take his shot. Len squinted at the table. The guy -- what's his face -- had missed his shot, but he wasn't too far behind. Barry was still winning though, being surprisingly good at the game.  
  
As Barry bent forward to take his shot, Len noticed the guy -- whatever his name was -- check him out from behind. Len narrowed his eyes in a glare that he hoped was menacing, but was probably anything but. He wasn't a lightweight. He wasn't. He'd just...had a drink (or three) before he left the bakery. And over half of the empty beer bottles were probably his. It was starting to come back to him now. Barry -- _that_ _kid_ \-- he'd actually gotten him drunk. Len couldn't really find it in him to be mad about it though. The guy checking out Barry's ass...now that, he could be mad about.  
  
He huffed angrily and went to the bar to grab another beer. The bartender gave him a once over and frowned, but gave him another, warning him that this was the last one. When Len came back, Barry was lined up for another shot, his ass end far too close to what's-his-name for Len's comfort.  
  
Len frowned and stalked toward Barry after he'd sunk the eight ball, throwing an arm around his neck.  
  
"Are you drinking another beer?" Barry asked with a small laugh. He hadn't even needed to try to get Len drunk. He'd done that pretty well on his own.  
  
Len snickered -- or was that a giggle? -- and nodded, taking a long guzzle from the bottle before slamming it down on the pool table, its contents sloshing over and spilling down the sides. He hid his face in Barry's neck. "Eleven. Does this mean we get to fuck?"  
  
"What?" Barry squeaked, a little surprised. He tried to pry Len away from him, but that only managed to make him cling tighter. He sighed and smiled apologetically at Bruce, the black-haired man who had been nice enough to put up with Len's drunken trash talk.  
  
Barry carefully made their way toward the bar to pay their tab, which had been excessively cheaper here than it would have been anywhere else. Barry was suddenly very glad they had chosen a rundown bar instead of one in the middle of the city. Not only were there less patrons, they were less likely to run into someone Barry knew.  
  
Dragging Len out of the bar, he was a little surprised when Len suddenly righted himself and pulled him away from the bar, fast enough for Barry to stumble. Before he could realize what had happened, Barry found himself pressed tightly to an alley wall, his hands held on either side of him.   
  
He stared at Len with wide eyes. "Len..."  
  
"Barry," the older man drawled, pressing forward and nudging a knee between Barry's legs.  
  
Barry swallowed, glancing down at all the places they were touching. Len was drunk, drunk enough to stumble and slur his words. And yet, he was the one controlling this situation. He was still drunk though and Barry couldn't -- "Len, you're drunk."  
  
"And?" Len hummed, running his nose along the curve of Barry's jaw, causing the younger man to shiver. He smirked, lips ghosting over warm skin. He'd been waiting, itching, to touch Barry's flushed skin -- to feel the blood rush to the surface. Feeling the warmth against his skin, he wasn't disappointed.

  
"A--and--" Barry began, eyes fluttering when he felt Len, hard against his hip. _Jesus_ .   
  
Len's smirk grew. "I prefer Len, but Jesus will do."   
  
Barry sighed and rested his head back against the building, opening his eyes to find Len's so dark and intense in front of him. "You're drunk," he repeated.   
  
Len adjusted himself, brushing purposely against Barry’s hip, his knee rubbing against Barry’s straining erection. "Still want you."   
  
Barry's breath stuttered and he met Len's gaze. "Are you sure you want this?"   
  
The question sobered Len a bit and his grip on Barry's hands loosened, giving him an out if needed. When he finally spoke, it was with more composure, more clarity, "Yes. You?"   
  
Barry nodded eagerly. "Yeah. God, yes."   
  
Len smirked, nudging their noses together. "Good."   
  
Barry hummed and captured his lips in an eager kiss. It was nothing like he'd imagined -- and he'd imagined this moment a lot. It was sloppy and grappling and bruising, but it was intoxicating.   
  
Len worked with quick fingers, finally releasing Barry's hands to undo his belt. Barry pressed forward, catching himself on the buckle and groaned. Len steadied him with a hand to his hip, smirking. "Easy, kid."   
  
Barry groaned. "Stop calling me that."   
  
Len smirked, working quickly to get their pants and underwear down around their ankles. He felt Barry shiver and pressed in close to him, running a hand over the taut muscle of Barry's stomach. He pushed the bottom of Barry's shirt out of the way and took the kid in hand, leaning forward to spit into his hand, using it to slick the way down the younger man's dick.

 

“Fuck,” Barry swore, tilting his head back against the brick and gazing at Len with hooded eyes. “This shouldn't be so hot.”

 

Len didn't bother to reply, just squeezed a little harder before taking himself in hand too, pumping steadily over both of them. He let himself drink in this moment -- watching the way the kid’s mouth dropped open in silent moans, the way his eyes widened whenever Len moved his wrist just right, and the way his entire body seemed to flush with arousal. The kid was beautiful. So beautiful.

 

Len grunted and shifted his hips, wrapping an arm around Barry’s back to pull him closer. His hand fell to the curve of his ass, using a knee to ease Barry’s legs further apart. He dipped his hand lower and teased Barry with a finger, circling his hole with his fingertip before dipping in shallowly and pulling back out. He continued the motion until the kid was a moaning, quivering mess in his arms. He pressed a finger insistently against Barry, the kid jerking forward with a loud cry, and suddenly the kid was coming apart in Len’s arms.

 

Fuck. That had been too much, too fast. Len watched Barry with hooded eyes, hand still moving rhythmically over his own cock. His hips jerked forward, squeezing in closer to Barry and Barry gasped, nails scraping along Len’s scalp.

 

“Len,” Barry murmured, and the sound of his voice, rough with arousal, sent Len over the edge. He let out a loud groan, stifling the sound by sinking his teeth into the kid’s shoulder. Barry yelped, but held him there with a hand to the back of the neck. Once Len was spent, Len pressed a kiss apologetically to his shoulder and took a short step away, removing his hand from his sensitive cock and glancing at his hand.

 

Barry tugged at his wrist, pulling the hand toward him to flick his tongue along the calloused skin, cleaning the mess from his fingers.

 

Len watched with rapt interest before pulling him into a searing kiss that left both of them breathless. He stepped away from Barry and pulled up his underwear and pants, eyes glued to Barry as he did the same. He really was beautiful. Everything about him. From the way he ate cupcakes to the way he licked Len’s fingers to the way he came undone pressed against the brick building.

 

Len stepped close to him once they were situated, running a thumb along Barry’s jaw. He smiled softly, feeling more sober than he had all night, and pressed a gentle kiss to Barry’s lips. When he pulled away, he saw his smile reflected on Barry.

 

He wanted to tell Barry how beautiful he was, how much he'd enjoyed himself, and how much he'd love to do it again sometime, but the words seemed to evade him. Instead, his hand drifted down to Barry’s in a gentle squeeze and he pulled him out from the dark alley, led him down the sidewalk, and back to his apartment. There was nothing he wanted to say that couldn't be said in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *coughs* Um, so, that happened. Uh, that may have been the first smutty scene I've ever written for a slash pairing? Yeah. I hope it was okay! But regardless, this was a long time coming. I mean, this is the tenth chapter? And they hadn't kissed yet? Which is fine because obviously they're still getting to know each other, but the UST has been torture, even for me.
> 
> Also, I couldn't resist the How To Be Single reference. I saw that movie a few days before Valentine's Day with some friends and found it so amusing. Rebel Wilson is crazy fantastic. And the fact that Len, himself, has seen it? Barry would have a field day with that one. xD Writing drunk!Len was so much fun, let me tell you. He's so composed and calculating about 95% of the time, so to write him like this was amusing. I'm hoping none of it was too out of character (I'm paranoid about that, I try to keep my characterization as accurate as possible). But yes. The next chapter will be a bit confusing at first because it'll open with a flashback. It wasn't planned to go that way, but it just sort of...happened? This chapter wasn't planned this way either, to be honest, but Barry and Len demanded it...
> 
>  
> 
> **As a reminder:**
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter 11 will include references to the rape of a minor and will contain a somewhat graphic abuse scene. I realize that this could be triggering to some people, so I will update the tags accordingly and will continue to leave these warnings in the notes until after the chapter is posted. I want everyone to know that I 100% do not condone the actions of some of the characters in this fic and have written the scene in a way that there's no doubt that what is happening is wrong. Rape is always wrong, no matter how you look at it, and taking advantage of a minor is also wrong. I will continue to leave warnings in the notes and I will update the tags. If, by chance, I miss anything, please let me know so I can fix it. I want this to be a safe reading experience for everyone.**


	10. Fathers and Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len has a nightmare...except the nightmare is very real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: The first half of this chapter refers to the rape and abuse of a minor. The rape is not detailed, but it's still there and the abuse is somewhat graphic. I realize that these subjects can sometimes be triggering for people and would advise you to scroll past the first half if it bothers you. I will leave a short explanation of what happened in the first half at the end of the chapter so the chapter, as a whole, makes sense.
> 
> Also, can I just say I'm so, so nervous about this chapter? Because so far this story has been rainbows and sunshine and, suddenly, I'm just shoving all this angst in your face. UGH. I'm sorry. I truly am. (Sort of.) Okay, proceed...

Len didn't have nightmares often, but when he did, they were always real, revolving around memories he'd long forgotten -- or, at least, tried to. But sometimes he couldn't suppress them. Sometimes he let his guard down just enough to let his demons through.

 

Len’s dad always had guests over. Len didn’t think they were friends, per se. They certainly weren’t always friendly. And some of them...they weren’t even _nice_.

 

Len had just come down for a glass of water when he heard the arguing downstairs in the basement. He couldn’t make out the words and wasn’t sure he would understand even if he could.

 

He held his teddy bear by its paw and walked quietly into the kitchen. Pushing his footstool against the cupboard, he stepped up to reach the sink and turn on the faucet. There was a noise behind him and he startled, water sloshing over the edge of his glass as he peeked over his shoulder. There was a man, a little older than his dad, standing in the doorway, wearing an indulgent smirk.

 

Len turned off the water and slowly turned around, the grooved step of the stool digging into his feet. He held his glass with both hands to keep them still, his bear pinched between his pinky and the glass. “I was just getting some water.”

 

The older man hummed, eyeing him, as he walked into the room. “Nice pjs, kid.”

 

Len glanced down at his dino pajamas with a small smile, blinking at the man shyly. “Thank you.”

 

The man’s smile widened and he went to the fridge, grabbing a beer. He glanced back at Len. “You ever tried beer?”

 

Len frowned, eyebrows pinching in confusion. “I’m only six.”

 

“That’s a no then,” the man smirked. He glanced down at the can in his hands and held it up. “Wanna try some?”

 

There were still voices coming from downstairs and Len’s eyes moved to the door, half-expecting his dad to come up. “No, that’s okay.” He glanced down at his feet. “Dad would be mad.”

 

He was surprised when the man touched his face, flinched as his long fingers brushed an old, yellowing bruise.

 

“Your dad get mad a lot?”

 

Len closed his eyes and shied away from the man’s hand, his bottom lip wobbling. He bit down on his lip to stop it from moving.

 

“You’re a good kid, Leo,” the man sighed, hand falling to Len’s shoulder. His thumb brushed along Len’s collarbone, fingers curling in a loose grip. “Do you want me to show you how to make the pain go away?”

 

Len looked into the man’s face, noticing the man’s wide eyes and kind smile. He nodded shyly, the man’s smile widening as his hand slid down to curl around Len’s.

 

“Good, good. It’ll be our little secret, okay? Your dad won’t have to know.”

 

Len had been so eager to numb his pain back then, so willing to trust anyone who wasn’t the man who raised his hand to him and called him a bastard. He should have known better. He should have known no hands would ever touch him with kindness — not without some ulterior motive. Not without wanting something from him in return.

 

The first time it happened wasn’t the last. The man kept coming back, kept hanging around whether his dad was home or not. Continued to stick around even after Len’s dad was put in prison for the first time.

 

“Ready for some fun?” he’d say, as if Len had a choice. As if Len actually found what the man did to him fun.

 

By the time his dad finally found out what was happening, Len was almost nine and had a half-sibling on the way. Out on bail, his father had barged into his room when the man was balls deep, his pudgy fingers digging into Len’s small hips. His father had been so enraged that he’d pulled the man off him, shoving him into the wall.

 

Len curled into a ball on his bed and buried his face in his hands, trying to ignore the sound of breaking bone. His father had been angrier ever since he got out of prison, less sympathetic and more violent.

 

“Keep your damn hands off my son, you piece of shit!” his dad screamed, slamming his boot into the man’s spleen. He tugged the man up off the floor and tossed him out of the room with his pants still around his ankles. “And don’t you dare show your ugly face in my house again or I’ll fucking kill ya!”

 

The man scrambled to his feet and stumbled toward the stairs, pulling up his pants as he went.

 

Lewis turned in a fury toward his son, stalking toward the bed and wrenching him off the mattress. Snatching his son’s pants off the floor, he shoved them at the boy’s chest. “Put your damn pants on.”

 

Len scrambled to obey, sore and uncomfortable. Embarrassed tears slid down his flushed cheeks, unbidden, and his bottom lip trembled.

 

Seeing this, Lewis grabbed his jaw. “You slut! You liked that, didn’t you?”

 

Len cowered away and shook his head. “N—n—”

 

A rough slap landed against Len’s cheek, the force of the blow knocking him back against the metal bed-frame. But Lewis didn’t stop there. He kept going, landing his boot against Len’s ribs, against his arms, his head, until Len was a bruised and bleeding mess on the floor.

 

Len barely noticed when his father left the room. Len hated him, but he hated his mom more — not because she’d left a mere week after his dad got back, but because she was free.

 

~*~

 

Barry woke with a start and realized he was still in Len’s apartment, having fallen asleep, blissful and content. He smiled and rolled onto his side, startling when he saw that Len wasn’t in the bed next to him. Kicking the covers to the side, he followed the sound of hitched breathing and peered over the side of the bed. Len was sitting on the floor, his head between his knees as his body convulsed with sobs.

 

Barry scrambled out of bed and slipped down beside him, reaching out tentatively, but not touching him. He’d suffered through enough panic attacks to know not to startle him. “Len, hey.” When Len peeked at him, Barry smiled encouragingly. “Good. Len, you need to focus. Tell me what you need.”

 

Len’s shaking worsened, his jaw chattering as he struggled to speak.

 

“No, hey, that’s okay,” Barry consoled. “Do you have medication?” At Len’s denial, Barry continued, “Okay. Len, it’s okay. Focus on your breathing and count to ten. Can you do that?”

 

Len nodded and Barry smiled, counting with him. “One.”

 

Len’s words were choked and breathless in a way Barry was far too familiar with. It made his chest ache in sympathy. “Two.”

 

Barry inched a little closer and sat down beside him, muttering reassurance and praise. “Three.”

 

Len's tremors began to ease. “Four...five.”

 

Barry focused on the way Len was shielding his stomach with his arms, as if defending himself, and frowned. “Six...seven.”

 

Len’s fingers slowly uncurled, his shoulders relaxing. “Eight.”

 

Barry wasn’t sure what had caused the panic attack, wasn’t sure if Len trusted him enough to explain. Barry wouldn’t pressure him, but Barry felt himself worry regardless and felt an intense desire to protect him — to help him. “Nine.”

 

Len’s arms dropped to his sides and he took slow, deliberate breaths, listening to the soft sounds of Barry’s voice. He hadn’t wanted the kid to see him like this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “Ten.”

 

The two sat in a tense silence, with Barry reaching for him, but not quite touching. Len rubbed his hands over his bare arms and glanced at him. “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” Barry muttered, relaxing next to him, his outstretched hand falling to his lap. “I used to get those all the time when my mom died. Iris and Joe used to talk me down from them.”

 

Len stared at him for a moment, contemplating. He sat back against the bed and rested his elbows on his bent knees, still trying to catch his breath. “How’d she die?”

 

Barry glanced at him, noticed the honest curiosity, and smiled sadly. He wasn’t used to people asking, but that was mainly because most people already knew. And those who didn’t always just said sorry and moved on. Death was such a taboo subject. Sometimes it was nice to talk about her with someone. “She was murdered.”

 

Len’s expression stayed carefully blank, portraying none of his surprise. “Did they catch—”

 

“They think my dad did it,” Barry interrupted, frustration clear in his voice.

 

“You don’t think he did?” Len questioned, fingers curling as he watched Barry. He was more than a little familiar with having someone he cared for stolen from him, even if his mom had been driven away instead of murdered. He found himself getting angry on Barry’s behalf, felt himself wanting to ice whoever had taken Barry’s mom from him. The feeling surprised him.

 

“I know he didn’t,” the younger man stated angrily, looking at Len. “I was there. He didn’t do it.”

 

“Did you tell the—”

 

“They didn’t believe me,” Barry huffed, shaking his head. “I was just a kid and all the evidence pointed to him.”

 

Len frowned, glancing away. He always knew he hated the system, but Barry...he had just as much reason to hate it, maybe even more...and yet — “Why do you work for the CCPD if they’re the ones who took your dad from you?”

 

Barry shrugged, glancing down at his hands. “I always thought, you know, that if I was a part of the team, I’d be able to solve my mom’s murder or, at least, clear my dad’s name.”

 

“But?”

 

Barry sighed. “Turns out, proving someone didn’t do something is harder than proving they did.”

 

“So much for innocent until proven guilty,” Len grumbled, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

 

Barry snorted beside him and nodded, relaxing back until their shoulders were touching.

 

They sat in silence until Len sighed. “My dad was a cop. A bad one. He got away with a lot he shouldn’t have…”

 

Barry frowned. “You don’t have to tell me—”

 

Len shut him up with a glare that held no heat, a sardonic smirk twitching at his lips. “What I’m trying to say, Barry, is that the system is corrupt.” His smirk slipped as his gaze fell to the floor. “Sometimes the ones who’re supposed to protect us can’t be trusted.”

 

Barry shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of those words. He knew that feeling far too well, maybe not to the extent that Len felt it, but he’d trusted Wells, had thought of him as a father figure, and he'd betrayed him. Betrayal like that...the pain didn't go away easily.

 

Barry didn't know what to say, didn't know if there was really anything _to_ say, so instead he laid a hand on Len’s arm and offered a sad smile.

 

Len glanced down at his hand before returning his smile. It was then that Len realized just how much his head was pounding and how exhausted he felt. He sighed and slowly got to his feet, slipping away from Barry’s hand. “Alright. Come on, we should get some sleep.”

 

Barry followed his lead, running his hands over the sweatpants he’d borrowed from Len. He watched Len as he fixed his side of the bed. “Len, are you — you're okay, right?”

 

Len’s shoulders tensed for a moment, but they quickly relaxed again. The older man turned slowly, his eyes finding Barry’s in the faint light of the room. He breathed slowly through his nose, a strained smile curving his lips, and nodded. “I'm fine, kid.”

 

Barry frowned at the nickname and felt his heart sink a little when Len averted his gaze and got into bed, burying his face in his pillow. Barry sighed and slipped under the covers on the other side. He glanced at Len, realizing that their moment — whatever it had been — was over.

 

As Barry settled down and rolled onto his side to face away from Len, he couldn't help but feel they had simultaneously taken a step forward and a step backward. Len had let him in, but now it felt like he was being pushed away, like Len was afraid of what Barry might see. Barry wished he could say everything he wanted to — that it didn't matter what baggage Len was carrying or what happened in his past, that Barry still cared about him regardless — because he _did_ care about him, he realized. But Barry knew it wasn't that simple. If Len’s broken trust was anything like his own, he wouldn't let someone in easily. Barry could only hope that he'd be let in at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who scrolled past the first part: Len was abused by his dad and one of his dad's "friends" took advantage of his innocence and pain, "comforting" him in less than moral ways. This went on for years until Lewis found out and put an end to it (blaming Len in the process, even though it was _clearly not what he wanted and it was not his fault_ ). That's basically all you need to know...
> 
> So, um. This chapter kind of snuck up on me? I didn't intend for any of this to happen, to be honest. I really, really didn't. I was honestly going to have something else happen, something more lighthearted and less dark, but...this just sort of weaseled its way into the story and I couldn't resist throwing it in? I guess I just needed to balance all the cupcakes and happiness with some darkness...because Len is such a complicated character and I wanted to explore that a bit here.
> 
> Also, a lot of you had been asking what happened in Len's past, soooo...you kinda asked for it? And now you understand all of Len's pain and anger and his insecurities and his hesitations. Because can you just imagine for a second? The fact that Barry is _so much younger_ than Len and Len _knows_ what it's like to be manipulated by someone that's older than you, okay? He knows what it's like to have someone force themselves onto you. And although Barry is old enough to make his own decisions, Len wants to make absolutely sure that this is what Barry wants. Because he couldn't - _wouldn't_ \- take advantage of someone like that. Not when it came to personal things like sex and relationships. He's still selfish in some ways (which we haven't seen yet here), but he's not cruel.
> 
> Clearly Len's carefully constructed walls are beginning to crumble around Barry. He's starting to _feel_ things and starting to let Barry see things he doesn't like to share with anyone. They're nowhere near close yet (both of them have far too many secrets), but they're getting there. Both of them are somewhat broken -- at least, their trust is broken -- and they're struggling with that. Barry thinks he's ready to let Len in, but...Len is a lot more broken than Barry initially thought. There are so many layers to the older man and Barry is afraid that he won't ever know him as well as he wants to.
> 
> *sighs* This chapter gives me so many feelings. Let me know what it makes you feel in the comments and we can cry about it together. The next few updates will be slower, I think. Usually I have the next next chapter finished by the time I post a new chapter, but I'm still in the process of writing chapter 13, which is giving me soooo much trouble for some reason. I think it's because I don't want to get to the serious parts of the story, haha. I always hate getting to the "problem" part of the plot. But I will get there. Maybe. I may need a few cheerleaders...but it'll still get done. I knew this would happen eventually, that's sort of why I've been writing so many chapters ahead of time. x)
> 
> OH, and I intend on posting a short story about Lisa and Len's childhoods on here within the next couple of days. It will be _all_ angst and seriousness. Nothing like this story. xD
> 
> Anyway, I'm rambling now. Let me know what you think! You guys are amazing and you blow my mind. Seriously. I would have given up on this story ages ago if it weren't for you guys<3


	11. Invitations and Prying Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris gives Barry advice and Lisa...well, she does what she does best...she meddles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've edited and re-edited (written, rewritten, added and deleted) so many times. I just sorta reached the point of saying "fine" and decided to post it as it is.
> 
> Honestly, the last chapter is hard to followup, but hopefully this does the trick! x)

Barry wasn't sure what to do about Len. After an awkwardly silent and quick breakfast, Len had all but shoved Barry out of his apartment so he could head off to work. It was _five in the morning_. Barry understood that Len had business to attend to, but Barry had at least been expecting...well, he didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it definitely wasn't Len shooing him out onto the street so early in the morning and parting with a mere, “See you around, Barry.”

 

At least he hadn't called him kid this time, but he also hadn't expressed any desire to see Barry again. And, worse, he seemed to be avoiding Barry’s texts. None of the texts were entirely important, but neither had the first few texts they'd exchanged. _So why was Len avoiding them?_

 

A few days after the date, Barry met Iris for wedding planning at her place and collapsed onto her couch with a sigh. She glanced at him with a small frown, setting down her coffee and turning to face him. “Uh oh. What's wrong?”

 

He furrowed his eyebrows. “How do you know something’s wrong?”

 

She gave him a flat look and motioned toward him. “You're doing that...moping thing you do.”

 

“I don't have a _moping thing_ ,” he defended. And he didn't, okay? He didn't mope over people. At least, he hadn't since college.

 

“You do and you're doing it right now,” she argued, lifting an eyebrow, as if challenging him to contradict her. “Now spill.”

 

He sighed again, sinking down into the couch and laying his head back to look up at the ceiling. He took a moment to trace the specks of the popcorn ceiling with his eyes, gathering his thoughts. “I think Len -- _Leonard_ \-- is avoiding me.”

 

“Why would he avoid you?”

 

He closed his eyes and shrugged. “I don't know.”

 

“Barry,” she said warningly. “What have you been keeping from me?”

 

He sat up and looked at her. After a moment of consideration, he realized that she definitely knew what he was keeping from her. “How do you _do_ that?”

 

She smirked, taking a slow sip of her coffee. “You forget how well I know you, Barry. Plus, dad said you stayed at Leonard's the other night. So, what happened?”

 

He huffed and sat back. Of course Joe would tell Iris that. If living with Joe wasn't so convenient as the Flash and he didn't have such a big grocery bill each week...he would have much rather lived on his own so he could have some privacy. There were some things he didn't want his foster father to know, okay?

 

“We…” he paused, not really wanting to go into detail about this with his _sister_. “I mean, we went out for drinks?” He scratched at his chin. “And then went back to his place?”

 

“Did you--” she gasped, grasping his arm excitedly.

 

He blinked at her. Why was the prospect of him having a sex life so exciting to her? “What? No! Iris, I didn't have sex with him.”

 

She narrowed her eyes and he _knew_ he was blushing.

 

“Okay, so _maybe_ we made out in the back alley and--” he really didn't want to go into detail, he decided.

 

Iris got the gist anyway from the way she was shaking his arm and squealing. “I knew it!”

 

“Knew what?” Eddie questioned as he came in through the front door, glancing between the two of them and kissing Iris on the cheek. He ran his hand over the navy tie that sat over his gray vest and light blue shirt, both of which fit him snugly. Not that Barry noticed. And if he did it was just because he admired the man’s taste. Yeah.

 

Iris pecked him on the lips with a hum, smiling up at him. “Barry hooked up with Leonard.”

 

“No kidding?” Eddie raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “The hot baker?”

 

Barry groaned, burying his face in his hands. Why did everyone keep calling him that? They knew his name. Iris had _just said his name_. Why was this such a big deal to everyone? It wasn't like -- okay, so maybe Barry didn't go out on as many dates as most people his age, but he kinda had a full plate, okay? As fast as he could run as the Flash, it sure took up enough of his time. And he was on call for work almost twenty-four-seven. He didn't have much time to be a normal twenty-six year old.

 

“Oh, stop being so dramatic, Barr,” Iris laughed, nudging his shoulder. “We're just happy for you.”

 

Eddie sat down on the arm of the couch, next to Iris, and put a hand on her shoulder, smiling fondly. “If the guy’s half as amazing as your sister, you better hang onto him, Barr.”

 

Barry watched them from his side of the couch, noting the genuine love and admiration exchanged in such a small glance. He couldn't lie, he'd been totally skeptical (and still partial to Iris) when he'd first met Eddie. The first time the pretty boy had called Barry by his nickname, Barry had even turned his nose up at him. But things were different now. Eddie made Iris happy and that's really all Barry ever wanted for her. That's all he really wanted for any of his friends.

 

That's all he wanted for himself.

 

He sighed and sat back, staring at the ceiling again. Len was definitely avoiding him. Barry knew he could just stop by the bakery whenever he felt like it. He knew where Len worked and he knew where the man lived, but Barry wasn't going to stalk him. He wasn't going to corner the man and force him into a conversation he clearly didn't want to have.

 

But damn it, Barry was beginning to miss him and his stupid cupcakes.

 

“Barry,” Iris said softly, touching his arm. “What happened?”

 

He glanced up at Eddie and then away with a frown. Eddie took that as his cue to leave, pressing a kiss to Iris’s forehead before heading to the bedroom to change. With Eddie gone, Barry melted under Iris’s touch and slouched toward her, automatically curling into her arms like he used to when they were kids.

 

“Everything was going great,” Barry stated dejectedly.

 

Iris’s arm automatically curled around his shoulders. “But?”

 

He sighed. “I don’t know, Iris. He — we —” He fumbled, searching for words to describe what had happened that night between him and Len, but the truth was, he didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand what was going on in the older man’s head. And that not knowing — not knowing what Len wanted, what he needed, or if he was worth trusting...that _terrified_ him. “Something happened. He had a nightmare and — Iris, it was like what happened when I was a kid. He —”

 

“He had a panic attack?” She finished for him, looking concerned. When he nodded, she frowned. “So, you calmed him down?”

 

He nodded again, hair brushing against her neck. “Yeah, but then — I don’t know, something changed. It just feels... _different_ , somehow.”

 

She pulled him a little closer and rested her head on his. “Oh, Barry, of course it does. This isn’t some crush anymore. You’re actually getting to know him.”

 

Barry huffed and rubbed his fingers over his eyes. “Well, I was anyway.”

 

She scooted away from him and grabbed a hold of his chin, lifting his head and raising an eyebrow. “Barry Allen, are you this upset just because the man hasn’t called you yet?”

 

He frowned at her and pulled his chin from her grasp, picking at a loose strand on his red sweatshirt. “No.”

 

“You are!” She accused, slapping his arm. “Barry, he’s probably just scared. You saw a part of him that he wasn't ready for you to see. You two barely know each other. Wouldn’t you react the same way if it had been the other way around?”

 

He would, he realized. He knew she was right. He knew Len had to be feeling vulnerable, but that didn’t make him feel any better. What did Len ignoring his calls and texts _mean_? Should he give him his space? Should he just give up? Any other person would probably walk away, but Barry...he didn’t walk away from people he cared about. And he cared about Len.

 

Seeing him battle with himself, Iris rolled her eyes and nudged his foot. “I’m sure everything will be fine, Barr. You just need to get out of your head. You’re reading too much into this.” She shrugged. “Maybe he’s worried you won’t want to see him again because of what happened. Maybe he’s worried he’s got too much baggage for you to handle. You’ll never know if you don’t go talk to him.” She paused, fixing him with a look. “In _person_.”

 

He thought about that for a minute, realizing she had yet another good point. “I don’t know...I don’t even know what I would say.”

 

She took a considering sip of her coffee before she sat up excitedly. “Oh! I have the perfect idea! Invite him to Eddie’s bachelor party.”

 

“What?” He questioned, staring in bewilderment. “You just said, yourself, that him and I barely know each other...and yet you want me to bring him to meet my friends?”

 

“Why not?” She shrugged. “Maybe it’ll relieve some of the tension. Plus, it’ll give him the chance to see a different side of you.”

 

He grimaced. “Don’t you think that would be kind of awkward though? He doesn’t even know Eddie.”

 

“He met him at the bar," she justified. When he didn't seem convinced, she sighed. "Look, I’m not saying you have to. All I’m suggesting is that you ask him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

Barry frowned. _Well, he could say no_.

 

~*~

 

It had been almost a week since they had spent the night together. The awkward morning after kept replaying in Len’s mind. It left Len feeling even more anxious than usual. He wasn’t sure what he was more anxious about, seeing Barry again or _not_ seeing Barry again. So far, the kid hadn’t even attempted to stop by. He’d gotten a few texts from him, complaining about work and grousing about wedding details, but Len didn’t bother to respond, more than a little weary about texting.

 

Len was thankful that Barry had been there for him that night and that he’d managed to calm him down, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d had when he woke up and saw Barry beside him. At first, he’d felt nothing but warmth, settling pleasantly in his chest. But then a voice drifted from his memory, from his nightmare. He hadn’t recognized it at first, it had been so long, but the longer he dwelled on it the more pronounced it became.

 

_Do you want me to show you how to make the pain go away?_

 

It had been a promise — or, at least, Len had taken it as one. And Barry...he took the pain away. It was this awareness that had brought the memory back, he realized. He wondered what his dad would say about him getting off with Barry that night, what he would say about Barry spending the night in Len’s bed.

 

He hated himself for letting his father keep such a strong hold on him. He was in his forties, for Christ’s sake. His father was in prison. Lewis Snart couldn't dictate his decisions.

 

Except he did because the prick was still alive and Len knew it was only a matter of time before those prison walls crumbled to let his dear old dad out.

 

He pounded his hands into a batch of dough a little harder than necessary and swore under his breath when someone rang the bell out front incessantly. He needed to get rid of that thing and just put one above the door instead. Maybe then people would stop testing his patience.

 

Wiping his hands on a towel, he sighed and went out front, grimacing when he saw his sister standing there with a shit-eating grin. “Lisa.”

 

“Lenny,” she replied with exaggerated sweetness, batting her long ‘lashes.

 

This may have worked on Len when they were younger, but he was immune to her antics by now. Well, mostly. “What do you want?”

 

She blinked in mock surprise. “Me? I actually came by to say hello to that cute friend of yours. Barry, I think Patty said his name was?”

 

Len crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at his sister. “Not here.”

 

She pouted. “Darn, I was looking forward to seeing him again.” When Len didn’t rise to the bait, she changed tactics, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Now that we’re on the subject though...who _is_ he, exactly?”

 

He rolled his eyes, a timer going off in the kitchen, and thanked whatever god above for saving him from replying. Of course, that was short lived when Lisa followed him into the kitchen. He leveled her with an unimpressed look and took the pan out of the oven, leaving the cookies out to cool. When Lisa looked at him expectantly, he sighed. “He’s just some kid who wanted to help out.”

 

“And in what ways did he help out?” she questioned, a sly lift to her eyebrows.

 

Len hated her sometimes. He shook his head and went back to the dough he’d been kneading. “He watched the place while I was gone.”

 

She hummed, watching him closely. “Is that all?”

 

“Lisa,” he snapped, glaring at her in a way that made her playful smile slip. He could feel his hands starting to shake, the nightmare that had woken him so abruptly the last time he'd seen Barry drifting into his mind.

 

She approached him slowly. “Lenny…”

 

He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. He felt himself relax a fraction when she put her hand on his shoulder.

 

“Oh, Lenny,” she sighed, hand clasping around his shoulder. “You’re having nightmares again, aren’t you?” When he slowly went back to work and avoided her gaze, she continued, “I don’t know why you don’t just leave this place like I did.”

 

Len frowned. “We’ve been over this.”

 

And they had, many times. It was always the same argument. _Come with me, Lenny. Leave Central and let our dad rot alone in prison like he deserves._ But Len couldn’t just leave. Central City was his home. Despite the memories, he liked it here, liked the community he’d been raised in. And he’d be damned if he let his dad take that away from him.

 

“Look,” Lisa began, removing her hand from his shoulder. “I know this is your home and that you have some sort of sentimental attachment to that homeless shelter—”

 

“ _That homeless shelter_ saved _both_ of our lives, Lisa,” he snapped, turning to her. “Or did you forget how many meals we would have missed if—”

 

“How could I forget?” she cried angrily. “How could I possibly forget sleeping next to you on a dirty, rusted cot and nearly freezing to death in the winter? How could I forget sneaking out every night just to come see you after dad kicked you out and he started taking his frustration out on me? How could I _ever_ forget _any_ of that when you won’t let me forget?”

 

Len’s anger dissipated and he looked at her, a little startled. He hadn’t realized...hadn’t even _thought_ that Lisa coming back to Central City to see him would be hard for her. He hadn’t thought that him deciding to stay in the city would upset her. He’d always thought that if she wanted to be near him, she’d stay. But now he realized that wasn’t the case.

 

“Lisa, I’m—” he began, reaching a hand out to her.

 

“Don’t,” she snapped, stepping out of his reach and glaring at him with cold, wet eyes. “Don’t apologize for being happy here, Len.” Her bottom lip trembled and she took a steadying breath, her face hardening. Just like they’d been taught. “I, honestly, don’t know how you do it. You spent more time with him than I did, you saw more, experienced more. He was always harder on you than he was on me, Lenny. How can you walk around this city and not feel him lurking in the shadows? How can you not see just how well he’s got this place wired?”

 

Len did see it. He knew how much power his father had in Central City, but he also knew that power was limited. There were only so many things his father could get away with inside prison. And when he got out...well, he had entirely new problems to deal with. A certain scarlet speedster, for example. Len wouldn’t say he felt safer with the Flash running around — it certainly made things more complicated for him and Mick — but he certainly felt more confident that his father would only last a few days before getting thrown back in prison. Central City was different now. More chaotic, yes, but different.

 

“He can’t get to us unless we let him,” Len stated quietly, a part of him crumpling under his sister’s observant gaze. She’d always seen right through his bravado, could always tell when something was bothering him. There was no point in trying to hide it.

 

“Lenny,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around him.

 

He sighed and returned the gesture, burying his face in her hair like he used to when they were just a couple of kids trying to make it on the street. He felt himself relax at the familiarity of their embrace, felt his anger and sadness ebb at the reassurance that she was here, that they were both okay. He wouldn’t say he missed her but… “It’s good to see you.”

 

Lisa chuckled, running her nails along the back of his neck. “Is it?”

 

He leaned into the touch and smirked. “You’re a pain in the ass, but yes.”

 

She laughed and pulled away from him, eyes floating around the kitchen. She zeroed in on the espresso machine and raised an eyebrow. “I thought you hated coffee?”

 

Len followed her gaze and bit back a sigh. Of course she would notice the new appliance. Of course. “Got it for Mick.”

 

She turned a sharp gaze on him and he knew she saw through the lie. _Since when did Mick drink espresso_? She hummed disbelievingly, but nodded and tilted her head to the side. “How is our little pyro? I hear the two of you went away on business.”

 

He nodded, watching as she jumped up onto his workspace. He ignored the small voice in his head that declared it as Barry’s spot and went back to work on the dough. “Didn’t know you were in town, sis. I would have invited you.”

 

She smirked. “I’m touched that you’d still consider it, Lenny. I’ve been itching to get back in the field again.”

 

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Oh? That could be arranged.”

 

Her smirk widened, but before they could continue their plans, the bell out front went off.

 

Len huffed in annoyance and cleaned his hands, about ready to give up on the dough for good. He shot his sister a look before heading out front, a little surprised and fairly dismayed to see Barry on the other side of the counter. The kid had horrible timing. Now was _not_ the time for the conversation they needed to have.

 

“Hey!” Barry greeted with a wide grin. At Len’s less-than-enthused greeting, Barry’s smile faltered. “Uh, sorry. If I’m interrupting something or...something, I can come back. You just weren’t answering any of my texts—”

 

“Don’t you know? Len never answers his texts,” Lisa drawled as she came from the kitchen, wearing a mischievous smile. She eyed Barry. “I see you took my advice though.”

 

“Advice?” Len demanded, turning to his petulant little sister.

 

Lisa’s answering smile was of feigned innocence and Len was seriously rethinking how _good_ it was to see her. “Oh, I stopped by while you were gone. He told me you left him your number. Don’t think I don’t know what that means, Lenny. You were expecting him to call.”

 

Len didn’t blush. He _never_ blushed. Except, he was pretty sure he _was_ and if Barry’s wide eyes were any indication, he definitely _was_.

 

“But I get it,” Lisa continued, shrugging as if she wasn’t aware of her brother’s growing embarrassment. “The kid’s a cutie. Who wouldn’t want him to have their number?”

 

“Lisa,” he warned, but it had no effect on his sis. She was still looking between the two of them with a wicked grin.

 

“I didn't call him,” Barry finally uttered, looking between the two of them in slight apprehension. The kid looked pretty damn terrified. If Len wasn’t so annoyed at Lisa’s meddling, he would have been amused. “I texted him.”

 

She stared at him with wide eyes. “And he texted back?”

 

“Uh,” the kid stammered, looking confused. “Yeah?”

 

She whistled. “Wow, he must like you more than I thought.”

 

“Lisa,” Len growled, glaring. “Don't you have somewhere to be?”

 

She grinned, looping her arm around his neck. “Nope.”

 

He stiffened, feeling his patience wearing thin, which apparently Barry noticed.

 

“I can come back later?” he offered, looking deliberately at Len instead of his sister.

 

Len sighed, feeling defeated. He hadn't necessarily been looking forward to seeing Barry again, but now that he was here, he didn't want him to _go_. Who he wanted to go was his menace of a sister, but she wasn't going anywhere. “No. Stay.”

 

Barry looked surprised, but smiled tentatively. “I actually came by because I have a question to ask you.”

 

He seemed hesitant again, gaze flitting between Lisa and Len. Len felt himself tense, wondering what exactly he intended to ask him with his sister in the room. “If it's about the other night--”

 

“No!” Barry jumped in, a little too quickly, eyes wide.

 

“What happened the other night?” Lisa questioned curiously, tugging her brother a little closer.

 

Ignoring her, Len asked, “Then what?”

 

“Uh,” And damn it, the kid’s hand was at the back of his neck again, long fingers drifting through loose brown locks. He was becoming entirely too predictable. “So, Eddie, Iris’s fiancé, has a bachelor party coming up.”

 

Len’s eyebrows dipped low on his forehead. “You want me to make something?”

 

“No!” Barry jumped in again, huffing and pointedly ignoring Lisa’s amusement. “I was wondering if you'd like to go? I mean, it might be kinda lame and Eddie and I aren't the closest, but it could be kinda cool? I mean, I helped put it together...so…”

 

Len blinked at him. Was Barry Allen asking him on another date? In front of Lisa? Did he actually want Len to meet his friends? He'd already met Eddie and he seemed nice enough, but...Len wasn't sure this was such a good idea. “I don't--”

 

“He'd love to!” Lisa interrupted, pinching the back of his neck.

 

Barry looked uneasily between the two of them, unsure, before asking Len. “Really?”

 

Len glowered at his sister. He was going to kill her for this. He turned to the kid with a slight shrug, trying to appear indifferent. “Sure. Why not?”

 

The smile that spread across Barry’s face was almost worth it when he chirped, “Awesome! I mean, yeah, cool. So, I'll text you the details?”

 

Len did say almost because as soon as Len nodded and Barry backed towards the exit, Lisa turned to him with an interrogative stare.

 

“You've been holding out on me, Lenny,” she accused, lifting a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the kitchen. “Make me an espresso and tell me everything. Now.”

 

Len hated her, but also...maybe this is what he needed to get his head on straight. It couldn't hurt, right?

 

~*~

 

Wrong. It hurt a lot. In fact, it was a damn near disaster. After hearing what had happened between the two of them, Lisa got much too excited, grabbing him and shaking him while he tried (again) to knead the dough.

 

“This is so exciting!” Lisa stated enthusiastically. “And now you’re going on a date—”

 

“It’s not a date, Lise,” he sighed, foregoing the dough for now and moving onto the sandwiches that needed to be prepped for that afternoon.

 

“Right,” she stated flatly, lifting an eyebrow. “You’re just going to his friend’s bachelor party. Who is Eddie again?”

 

He glared at her as she stole a piece of cheese from the cutting board and popped it into her mouth. He tossed a pair of gloves at her and went back to work. If she was going to stand there and bother him, she might as well help. As the two of them fell into a rhythm of putting together sandwiches, he huffed, “He’s a customer. He’s marrying Barry’s friend.” Also, a cop, but he wasn’t going to tell his sister _that_. Nor was he going to mention that Barry was a CSI. There were just some things Lisa didn’t need to know.

 

“Mhmm,” his sister hummed, nudging her elbow against his. “So, what you’re saying is that Barry wants to show you off to his friends.”

 

He rolled his eyes. That wasn’t what he was saying. Was that what Barry was doing? Showing him off to his friends? The thought had never occurred to him. Why would anyone, Barry especially, want to show him off? He wasn’t....at least, he didn’t _think_ he was anything worth showing off. He glanced down himself. All he really had to show was...well, things Barry wouldn’t want him to show in public.

 

“You’re such an idiot,” Lisa laughed, jabbing her elbow into his a little harder. “Seriously. You don’t realize how much of a catch you are, Lenny.”

 

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You going soft on me, sis?”

 

She rolled her eyes and hit her shoulder against his. “Shut up. I’m trying to be nice here.”

 

He smirked, returning his attention to his work. “I know. Thanks.”

 

Objectively, he knew he was a _catch_ , as she put it, but he surely wasn’t a _steal_. He didn’t see himself as something to be kept — and that was partially why his relationships never lasted long. He thought of himself as something elusive, something to be found only to disappear again once the fun was over. But Barry...well, he had changed things and Len wasn’t too sure how he felt about that.

 

Abandoning her work, Lisa sighed and rested her hip against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “Lenny, this kid has feelings for you. Just...don’t overthink it, okay? Don’t run away from this one.”

 

Len huffed, but nodded. He certainly wouldn’t make any promises, but he could at least _try_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I definitely started a new fic that branches off this one called [Safe Haven](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6175186/chapters/14148358). It'll delve into Len and Lisa's past a bit. The first "chapter" of the fic is the scene Len dreamed about in chapter 11. The second is something new from Lisa's perspective. I will end up fleshing that out a bit more over there, so feel free to read it if you're curious. :)
> 
> As for this fic...oh boy, this fic. This is the last chapter I have written and I've barely started chapter 13. That chapter just keeps giving me trouble for some reason, so I'm not sure if I'll end up scrapping the idea I had for it and starting over or if I'll try to stick with it. Regardless, I'm going to keep at it and hopefully it'll come out alright (eventually).
> 
> As for this chapter, Len and Barry are obviously still the same idiots we've all come to know and love. But it's much deeper than that now. Both are feeling especially self-conscious and it's reached that point where either one of them could get scared and run away. I'm totally not saying that'll happen, but. It's a possibility. They just need to figure out whether they care enough to stay or if they're going to run for the hills...Also, Lisa and Iris will inevitably meet at some point. Probably soon because I need their friendship like I need air. They need to bond over their oblivious (and slightly idiotic) brothers.
> 
> If you feel like keeping track of my progress (because I honestly have no idea when the next chapter will be done), feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](http://areyoucoldflash.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Also, I just need to say that I love you guys. Honestly, the only reason this story has gone on for so long is because of you guys. You're all so wonderful and your insight to what is going on between Len and Barry always gives me so many new ideas. Your headcanons and suggestions always make me view things in a new way and I think that's amazing. I like reading about everyone's interpretations or perspectives. It makes me excited to write more. :) 
> 
> So, thank you guys endlessly for reading, commenting, subscribing, etc. You're incredible<3


	12. Lunch and...Arrows?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Len accompanies Barry to Eddie's bachelor party. Things are a bit...tense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, so this came a lot sooner than anticipated. I thought it would take me longer to write, but inspiration hit me hard. I just want to say a big thank you to [songbirdie-101](https://songbirdie-101.tumblr.com/) for helping so much in the planning of this chapter. I was honestly so lost until she gave me some ideas. I also want to thank [niennavalier](http://niennavalier.tumblr.com/) for giving me ideas for the rest of the story and for getting me excited about writing it again. I don't know what I would have done without them<3

 

 

“Joe, are you sure you don’t wanna go?” Barry asked, fixing his shirt for what felt like the eleventh time in the past five minutes. He looked at himself in the mirror again, running a hand through his hair to fix it. He could feel his nerves coursing through him, an excited energy making him rush through getting ready. No matter how much he tried to slow down, his hair always seemed to have that wind-swept look once he finally stopped long enough to look at himself.

 

“Barr, I already told you,” Joe huffed from in front of the TV. He flipped through the channels at a slow pace, stopping momentarily on each program before changing it. “It would be too awkward for me as Iris’s dad.”

 

Barry sighed and turned around, finally tearing himself away from his appearance. He needed to stop fussing. Whatever he looked like when he got there would have to do. “Yeah, but you’ve known Eddie for, what? Two years? It’s just dinner with the guys and fishing—”

 

“I said no,” Joe stated firmly, glancing at Barry over the back of the couch. He glanced over Barry’s attire and raised his eyebrows. “Who are you trying to impress, son?”

 

Barry glanced down at his salmon button-up, black tie, and dark blue jeans. “Uh, is —” He blushed. “Is this too much?”

 

Joe glanced back down at the shirt. “Lose the tie.”

 

Barry took off the tie and zipped to his room to return it to his closet, moving to stand in front of the TV in the time it took Joe to blink. He spread his arms. “Better?”

 

His foster father turned and hummed noncommittally, grabbing his beer from the coffee table and taking a slow sip. “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

“Oh, right,” he stumbled, clearing his throat and fiddling with the watch on his wrist. “So, ah—”

 

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Leonard, would it?”

 

Barry looked at him accusingly. “Iris told you.”

 

Joe smiled. “She might have mentioned it.” He sat back in his seat and eyed him again. “How serious is this getting, son?”

 

The younger man shook his head. “It’s not. Not...yet.”

 

“But it’s going to be?”

 

“I hope so?” Barry mumbled, scratching at the back of his neck. “I mean, I want to get to know him better.”

 

Joe grunted. “I hope you intend on introducing us at some point.”

 

“Ah, yeah. Of course, Joe,” Barry agreed, wondering if that was such a good idea. They’d already met each other’s sisters...and if Lisa was anything like the the rest of Len’s family...Barry didn’t even want to think about meeting the parents.

 

“I mean it,” Joe warned, tilting his beer in his son’s direction. “I want to meet this man.”

 

“You’ll meet him,” Barry promised, remaining unspecific as to _when_ that would happen. At the moment, he couldn’t even be sure they’d reach that stage. Glancing down at his phone, Barry’s nerves spiked and he fumbled with the device when he saw that he was late. “Uh, oh wow! I have to go meet Len.” He quickly made his way to the door, glancing back at Joe one last time as he grabbed his jacket. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

 

Joe looked like he was seriously considering it for a moment, but Barry had a feeling it was more because he wanted to meet Len than because he wanted to attend Eddie’s bachelor party. After a moment of consideration, Joe shook his head. “Nah, you go have fun. Tell Leonard I said hi.”

 

Barry mumbled a “yup” under his breath and closed the door behind him. He stashed his phone in his pocket and shrugged into his jacket, switching into high gear and zipping across town, not having any real intention of telling Len his father said hello. That was, decidedly, the last thing he would do. Len was probably nervous enough without the added pressure of knowing Eddie and Joe worked together.

 

~*~

 

“His dad is a cop,” Len huffed, pacing from one end of the kitchen to the other. Instead of closing up shop early like he was inclined to do, Lisa and Mick were helping out instead, the former listening with rapt interest while the other only caught snippets.

 

“Cop?” Mick grunted, wild eyes finding Len’s.

 

“He didn’t tell you?” Lisa questioned, less fazed than Mick.

 

“No!” Len growled angrily, hands curling into fists. If he’d known Barry’s _foster father_ was a damn _cop_ he never would have agreed to any of this. To _anything_. Len could deal with a lot of things, could deal with Barry being a CSI if necessary, but _cops_? Being around Eddie Thawne was enough to set Len on edge, but _Joe_ _West_? How was this relationship between him and Barry ever going to work? Len was, and would always be, a criminal.

 

“Relax, Lenny, you’re dating Barry, not his dad,” Lisa gruffed, already tired of hearing her big brother’s incessant worrying. He’d been going on for _hours_ , ever since he found out that Iris West was the daughter of one of Central City’s finest.

 

Len gritted his teeth and turned to glare at her. How could she be so calm about this? She knew just as well as he did that the cops in Central City shouldn’t be trusted. That the _system_ was a load of crap. How could she just sit there and disregard everything they’d learned?

 

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Look, I get it, okay? I do. Dating the child of a cop is terrifying. How do you think I felt when I found out Sara’s dad was a cop in Starling?”

 

Len froze, eyes wide. She hadn’t told him her girlfriend was the daughter of a cop. In _Starling_ , no less. “You didn’t mention—”

 

“Because it’s not important,” Lisa interrupted curtly, glare daring him to say otherwise. “She’s not her father and her father is not _our_ father. I’m just as weary of authority as you are, Lenny, but even I can see that not everything is so black and white. Barry isn’t his father and, although his father is a cop for Central, that doesn’t mean he’s a corrupt one.”

 

Len glanced between his sister and Mick, who was flicking his lighter on and off, staring intently at the flame. Len figured the conversation had lost his interest as soon as they started talking about Lisa’s love life. Perhaps he hadn’t heard the part where Lisa mentioned Starling City. It was probably better that way.

 

Len was about to explain just what little time he intended to spend with the CCPD when the bell rang and Barry’s voice carried through the swinging door. Len swallowed hard and gave Mick a warning look when he perked up, a ravenous smile tugging at his lips. He turned toward the door as Barry passed through, his wide eyes going from Mick to Lisa and then to Len. The kid looked like he was going to piss himself.

 

“Hey cutie,” Lisa greeted with a smirk, returning to frosting the cupcakes. Her eyes drifted over Barry’s outfit. “Nice shirt.”

 

Barry glanced down at himself, cheeks burning. “Uh, thanks.” His gaze drifted back to Mick, who was watching him closely while his finger drifted over the lighter’s flame. He furrowed his eyebrows and determinedly turned his attention to Len, who was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt. “You ready to go?”

 

Len smirked at the kid’s obvious discomfort. This would definitely never work if the kid couldn’t even be in the same room as Len’s sister and his best friend. They both seemed to keep company that didn’t quite fit the other. “Sure, kid.” He turned back to his company, giving Mick a pointed look. “Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Lenny,” Lisa cooed, smiling widely. Her gaze moved back to Barry, her smile turning sly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

Len groaned and guided Barry out of the kitchen with a hand to the small of his back, glaring at Lisa over his shoulder. He was going to start keeping tally of all the ways she embarrassed him. And once he got a final count, he would pay her back in full.

 

~*~

 

When they arrived at the restaurant, Len wasn’t at all surprised to find the table full of cops. There were only a few that he recognized, one because he’d worked with his dear old dad back before everything went to hell. Not that they’d ever been out of hell. Vukuvich, he believed the officer’s name was. His receding hairline and gray hair gave away how long he’d been with the department. The man was in his early twenties when Len had first met him. It had been thirty-six years. It was a wonder the officer was still around.

 

The other officer he recognized, he couldn't quite place. There was definitely something familiar about him though and it set Len on edge.

 

“Barry! Leonard!” Eddie greeted with a smile, waving them over. He got to his feet and pulled Barry into a hug, offering Len his hand. “Nice to see you again, Leonard.”

 

“Please,” Len forced a smile and shook his hand. “Call me Len.”

 

Eddie nodded and sat back down, clapping his hands together, introducing the officers, Timothy Vukuvich, Harvey Paulson and Bryan Doyle. Doyle was the one that looked familiar, but Len still couldn't place him. He frowned and took a seat beside Barry, as far away from the cops as possible. He could see Vukuvich and Doyle sizing him up, but pretended not to notice. He had a feeling the day would either end in tears or disaster. Possibly both.

 

“Cisco isn't here yet?” Barry asked, directing his question to Eddie.

 

“Not yet, he said he'd be a few minutes late,” Eddie replied, sinking back in his chair like he was sitting in his living room. Len didn't understand how anyone could be so relaxed in public. Then again, that was probably his father’s fault. Eddie took a sip of his beer. “Have you heard from Oliver and Dig?”

 

“Yeah, they can't make it to lunch,” he glanced surreptitiously around the table, making Len raise an eyebrow. “Something...came up. They'll meet us later though.”

 

“I still can't believe you're friends with Oliver Queen,” Vukuvich snorted. “Why would a billionaire want to be friends with a chump like you?”

 

Len sat up in interest, his mind whirring as he glanced sideways at Barry. It was clear that Vukuvich was joking, the sound of his voice far too teasing to be malicious, but Len’s interest was piqued by something else entirely. Since when was Barry friends with a billionaire?

 

Barry laughed awkwardly, fiddling with a stray straw wrapper on the table. “He, ah, he's actually not a billionaire anymore, but we met a while ago while I was in Starling. Before I — before the lightning.”

 

Len caught the quick glance in his direction and felt like he was missing an important part of the story. He frowned at that.

 

Vukuvich snorted. “Nine months in a coma and you still look twelve.”

 

Len’s eyes widened and he slowly turned his attention to Barry, who was flushing at the comment and deliberately looking anywhere but at Len. Len knew he had no reason to get angry over something like this. He knew him and Barry still barely knew one another, but...nine months was a long time to be in a coma. You'd think something like that would come up at some point.

 

Fortunately, Paulson came to the kid’s rescue by rolling his eyes, “That wasn't funny the first time you said it and it isn't funny now.”

 

“Yeah,” Doyle piped up, jutting his stubbled chin in Barry’s direction. “The kid can't help that he's got a babyface, right, Barry?”

 

Len had to school his expression to keep from scowling at the nickname. Kid was _his_ name for Barry. Besides, as far as Len could tell, there was no gray in that brown hair of Doyle’s. He didn't look old enough to be calling Barry “kid”.

 

“Right,” Barry stated slowly, sitting up quickly when a guy with long black hair approached the table. “Cisco!”

 

Len eyed the new addition closely, noticing the gaming consoles on his graphic t-shirt and vaguely wondering if he was the one behind Barry’s cupcake t-shirt. It wouldn't surprise him. He seemed like the type to do such a thing.

 

“Hey guys!” Cisco greeted, smiling sheepishly as he took a seat on the other side of Barry. He looked between the three cops, looking equally as awkward around them as Len felt, which worked to ease Len’s anxiety a bit. At least he wasn't the only one who felt out of place.

 

Cisco turned to Eddie. “Sorry I'm late, had a few things to finish up at the lab.”

 

“Anything to do with the metahuman task force?” Vukuvich asked, and Len was starting to get the impression that he was the type to never stop talking. At least Len had somehow managed to become invisible for the time being. But wait, did he just say metahuman task force? Was there even such a thing?

 

“Nah, had some other business to deal with,” Cisco explained, shooting a not-so-subtle glance in Barry’s direction. Len stored that away for later.

 

“The Flash?” Paulson guessed, earning raised eyebrows from Len. He looked back at Barry’s friend consideringly. Maybe he'd misjudged the kid.

 

“Uh, no?” Cisco laughed, but it was much too forced. So, he knew the Flash. Interesting.

 

“Cisco!” Eddie interrupted, changing the topic with ease. “Have you met Leonard yet?”

 

“Len,” Len corrected, offering a warm smile to the younger man. “No, I don't believe we've met.”

 

Cisco’s eyes widened and he looked at Barry, eyebrows raised. “Dude, _this_ is the hot baker you've been talking about?”

 

Barry’s face turned a bright shade of red and he covered his face with his hand, shaking his head in embarrassment.

 

Len probably would have said something about that comment if Doyle didn't interrupt.

 

“Huh. Is that what you do?” the officer questioned, eyes once again glued to the older man, blue eyes calculating.

 

Len’s hand clenched into a fist, but he carefully uncurled it, not wanting his discomfort to be noticeable.

 

“Oh, yeah!” Barry replied for him, thankfully taking the officer’s attention off Len. “He owns the bakery near the homeless shelter, Frost Bites. You ever been?”

 

Vukuvich snorted, jabbing his elbow into Doyle’s side. “Like he'd eat sweets. Pretty Boy is watching his figure, ain't that right, Doyle?”

 

Doyle huffed, but a grin twitched at his lips. “What's wrong with eating healthy?”

 

“Absolutely nothing, except you don't get to eat anything good,” Vukuvich laughed.

 

The lunch passed in much the same way, with Barry trying to steer the conversation away from Len whenever necessary and with Len averting curt remarks from Doyle. The fact that he couldn't place the officer made his blood boil. Especially because the man obviously recognized him. He couldn't imagine where from though. He hadn't pulled a heist in years. Not in Central City anyway.

 

“How long has Doyle been on the police force?” Len questioned when they left the restaurant, walking a fair distance behind the two Pretty Boys up front. After the meal, Cisco had left for the afternoon, claiming he had to slip away for family stuff, but Len had the vague suspicion that it was Flash related. Vukuvich and Paulson had left just before him, wishing Eddie a congratulations and telling him to enjoy his night off.

 

“You mean Bryan?” Barry asked, keeping his voice quiet. He shrugged. “A few years, at least. Why?”

 

Len frowned, knowing the officer wasn't old enough to know his dad. He shook his head. “Just wondering.”

 

Barry let the subject drop and the two of them followed Eddie and Doyle to the waterfront, just a few blocks down from the restaurant. A boat was waiting for them at a dock when they arrived and Len felt a little weary. He didn't get sea sick often, but there was always that chance.

 

At his apprehension, Barry paused, eyes going wide. “Oh, crap. I completely forgot to mention this part, didn't I? We're just going a few miles out. I can't — I don't really have my fishing license so I can't catch anything, but the others will probably be fishing for a few hours. If you don't want to go—”

 

Len smiled despite himself and shook his head. “It's fine, kid.” His eyes drifted to the boat, where Doyle stood watching them. His smile widened as he returned his attention to Barry. “I don't mind a few hours in the sun.”

 

Barry returned the smile and slid his hand into Len’s. “Good.”

 

Len let himself be pulled onto the leather-seated pontoon, toward a table section in the back, where Eddie was already talking to two unfamiliar faces. Len observed them skeptically, noticing that the scruffy brunette was already doing the same to him. His eyes made Len pause, the sharpness of his gaze setting Len on edge yet again. Oliver Queen, he remembered Barry saying would be meeting them. The washed up billionaire.

 

“Oliver! Dig!” Barry greeted happily, dropping Len’s hand to bro-hug them both. “Good to see you!”

 

Oliver smiled, the gesture absolutely charming. Len was determinedly not jealous. “Thanks for inviting us.” He turned his attention to Eddie, but didn't miss the glance he spared for Len, something hard and unreadable in his eyes. “So, Eddie, how's it feel to know you'll be marrying Iris in, what? A little over a month?”

 

Eddie’s blissful smile said all that needed saying. And now that Len thought about it, all of Barry’s friends had a particular...charm to them. All attractive, all seemingly happy, all in good shape. Even Cisco had a certain charm to him; there was a particular appeal to his nerdiness that Barry certainly shared.

 

Oliver Queen, however, was an entirely different kind of personality and Len wasn't entirely sure how he and Barry fit.

 

“Barry, aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?” Oliver questioned with a kind smile. The smile probably would have fooled anyone else, but Len saw through it. It was too strained, too rigid around the eyes. Perhaps this afternoon would prove to be some fun after all.

 

“Oh! Yeah! Right! Sorry,” Barry fumbled, cheeks turning pink. He motioned between the two older men and cleared his throat. “Len, this is Oliver and Diggle. Guys, this is Len.”

 

“Len? Is that short for Leonard?” Oliver questioned, blue eyes analyzing the older man. Len wanted to laugh at his nonchalant way of gathering intel. Len hated to break it to him, but he wouldn't be so forthcoming.

 

“It is,” he answered, tone measured as he took a seat across from the man, Barry sitting down next to him.

 

Diggle moved toward the middle of the boat, taking his place at the wheel with Doyle at his side. Eddie took a seat next to Oliver, seemingly unaware of the tension between two of his guests.

 

As the motor rumbled and the boat jerked into motion, Len kept a careful eye on the man across from him. There was something familiar about him, something Len regarded as dangerous. Something...dark. The familiarity he had with Queen was entirely different from what he felt with Doyle. Doyle, he knew wasn't a threat. If the man knew him from somewhere, it wasn't anything serious. Queen, on the other hand, Len felt threatened by. He couldn't quite figure out _why_.

 

Once they stopped a ways down the river and allowed themselves to float, Oliver jumped up from his seat, reaching for a bow and arrow. The method wasn't entirely uncommon, especially around Missouri, but the lack of a fishing reel made Len’s eyebrows quirk up.

 

Oliver noticed Len’s reaction and smirked, twisting the arrow between his fingers. “You ever shoot an arrow before, Leonard?”

 

Len stifled a smirk and shook his head. “Can't say I have.”

 

Oliver’s smile widened as he took aim at the water, gaining everyone’s attention as he stared attentively into the river’s depths. After a quick inhale, he released the arrow into the water and dropped his equipment, stepping onto one of the seats and diving into the water after it.

 

Eddie exchanged a look with Barry, who was shaking his head at Oliver’s antics. Diggle stood at the edge of the pontoon, watching with mild interest.

 

Oliver burst through the surface moments later, fish and arrow in hand. Diggle lent him a hand and pulled him onto the side of the pontoon, helping him climb back over the seats.

 

“Way to make the rest of us look like slackers,” Eddie commented with a smile, taking a sip of his beer.

 

Oliver huffed a laugh and handed the fish to Diggle to be weighed and measured, stripping himself of his wet shirt.

 

Barry cleared his throat and laughed lightly, turning to Len. “Ah, yeah, Oliver’s pretty good at archery.”

 

Len observed Barry for a moment before moving his gaze back to the used-to-be billionaire, thoughts racing and connections forming. He eyed Oliver’s scarred chest, observed his smug smile, and hummed. “So I see.”

 

He sat back as Oliver rejoined them, relaxing back in his seat like he owned the sea. River. Whatever.

 

Len smirked. “Where'd you learn archery skills like that, Queen? Something tells me it's not part of the training at Queen Consolidated.”

 

Oliver hummed, accepting a beer that Diggle passed him. “Guess you could say it's a hobby.” He held Len’s gaze for a beat, then glanced down at the watch he was wearing. “That's quite the watch, Leonard. What did you say you do again?”

 

Len shook his head. “I didn't."

 

“Len's a baker!” Barry supplied, reminding Len where he was and who he was with. “He makes amazing red velvet cupcakes.”

 

“Is that so?” Oliver’s gaze didn't move from Len, but Let wasn't unnerved. He liked a good challenge from Starling City’s vigilante.

 

“One of my best sellers,” Len commented, raising an eyebrow at Oliver, wondering what he would throw his way next.

 

Eddie chuckled. “Is that based on all of your customers or just Barry?”

 

“Hey!” Barry complained. “I _do_ _not_ eat that many!”

 

Len furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the kid. “You ate thirty-six while I was gone.”

 

Barry’s eyes went wide at the exact moment Len realized what he'd done. He snuck a glance at Oliver, who had narrowed his eyes at Len, as if knowing exactly what he'd just admitted to. Shit.

 

“I watched your bakery for _three days_!” Barry justified. “I had to eat _something_.”

 

“You could have made something,” Len argued, trying to ignore the vigilante’s intense gaze. “Or brought something to heat up.”

 

“Or you could have brought something to eat cold,” Oliver added, making Len tense. The bastard.

 

Barry scrunched his nose, seemingly unaware of the tension and how much Oliver’s last comment unnerved Len.

 

“You know what I would like to eat?” Eddie questioned, slapping his hands on the table. “Fish, tonight. Barry, you wanna cast a line?”

 

“Oh, I don't—”

 

“Don't worry about it,” Eddie laughed, grabbing a fishing pole and handing it to him. “Joe would be devastated if you didn't bring anything home to him. You can throw whatever you catch in my bucket. No one will even know.”

 

“Oh, okay,” Barry shrugged, looking at Len. “Do you want to — I mean, do you mind—?”

 

He feigned a smile. “It's fine. Go catch something. Maybe we can fry it later.”

 

Barry grinned, unable to stop himself from leaning forward and kissing Len quickly. His lips were gone as soon as they touched, though, and Len felt himself yearning for more. He refrained, smiling to himself.

 

Once Barry was out of earshot, Oliver leaned over the table and hissed, “You must be pretty damn pleased with yourself.”

 

Len’s smirk returned and he relaxed back, no longer worried about the man. He'd escaped him before, he could most certainly do it again. Plus, it didn't seem like Oliver was eager to out his secret to everyone else. Len was sure he could keep it that way. “Delighted.”

 

“I swear, if you do _anything—_ ”

 

“You’ll what?” Len questioned. “Hit me with one of your arrows?”

 

Oliver hit his hand against the table. “I’ll do so much more than that if you—”

 

“Hey, guys,” Barry muttered from the side of the boat. “Everything okay?”

 

“Peachy,” Len drawled, gaze flicking to the vigilante. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Queen?”

 

Oliver forced a smile and made a show of reaching into the cooler for a beer, sliding it toward him. “Couldn’t be better.”

 

Barry nodded, but he didn't leave them alone much after that, choosing to stick close to Len instead. That didn't keep them from shooting each other glares when the forensic scientist wasn't looking or from slipping in the occasional reference to the other’s alternate identity.

 

If Barry caught on, he didn't show it, but Len had the feeling he was aware of the tension. The kid was a lot of things, but he wasn't blind.

 

By the time they had to return the rental, Doyle, Eddie, and Diggle had caught enough fish to split between everyone and everyone left in a good mood. Or nearly everyone. The vigilante, Len noted, still seemed tense.

 

Before they could all part ways for the afternoon, Oliver pulled Barry aside, Len lingering near Eddie and Doyle, watching them from a distance.

 

“Oliver?” Barry questioned, more than ready to help out in Starling City if needed. With the look Oliver was giving him, though, he feared that something had happened. “Is it Felicity?”

 

“No,” Oliver shook his head, waving off the possibility. “It's not that.”

 

“Oh,” Barry furrowed his eyebrows. “Then what's up?”

 

Oliver steeled himself, pursing his lips and breathing evenly through his nose. “It's Leonard.”

 

Barry’s eyebrows shot up. “Len?” He glanced over his shoulder, confused. “Wh-why? Did he say something?”

 

“No, Barry, it's not what he said. It's what he did,” the older man explained with a frown. “Barry, he's not who you think he is.”

 

Barry laughed helplessly, mainly because he didn't know what else to do. “What do you mean? He's not a baker?”

 

Oliver sighed. “A little over a week ago, we had some trouble with a series of armored cars in Starling City. A couple of thieves were tracking their route and robbing them, all within a few days of each other.”

 

The speedster shook his head. “Okay? What does that have to do with Len?”

 

“When Dig and I tried to take them down, there were only two thieves, one with a cold gun—”

 

“The same gun stolen from S.T.A.R. Labs?” Barry questioned, instantly making the connection. The gun had gone missing just a few weeks after Barry came out of his coma and it had led to them upgrading the S.T.A.R. Labs security. They hadn't heard anything about it since. “But wait—”

 

“Does the name Mick Rory sound familiar to you?”

 

Barry stuttered, eyes going wide. “I — uh, yeah. He's — he's Len’s friend.”

 

“We ran facial recognition from one of the security cameras. He was one of the thieves.” He observed Barry closely, waiting for it to click. “I'm sure you can guess who the other one was.”

 

“No, that can't be right. Len was—” He didn't actually know where Len had been, he realized. Every time he asked, Len avoided the topic. But Len couldn't have…

 

“It was him, Barry,” Oliver stated softly. “He knows I'm the Arrow.”

 

“But—”

 

“He's a thief, Barry. Don’t you think it’s strange that he just happens to be dating the Flash?”

 

“He doesn’t know--”

 

“How do you know that? And even if he doesn’t, why the hell is he dating a CSI? You need to think about that, Barry. Think about what he could be doing behind your back. Or is what Eobard did to you so far in the back of your mind that you’ll let a pretty face fool you?”

 

Barry flinched away as if he had been slapped and it definitely felt like he had been. Suddenly, everything hurt. His chest constricted, his lungs burned, and his eyes stung. It wasn’t until everything around him grew quiet that he realized he was moving at hyper speed.

 

He was just standing in one spot, his body moving faster than everything else around him. And he needed this. He needed a moment to gather his thoughts and consider what Oliver had said. He knew the older man had a point. He’d been lied to before by someone he trusted. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen for someone’s act. But that didn’t seem possible. Len hadn’t known who he was until the night he asked Barry to watch the bakery for him. Which was how the whole thing started. Was that really what Len had wanted that night? Or had he just come up with the idea as a way to get Barry on his good side after hearing he worked for the CCPD?

 

But that didn’t sit right with Barry either. Even if that had been his intention, this had grown into something much bigger. What Barry saw that night after their date...no one could fake something like that. There had been a genuine fear, a genuine vulnerability, in Len’s eyes as he fought through his panic attack. That wasn’t some trick.

 

Unless it was.

 

He sighed and rubbed furiously at his eyes, willing his tears to disappear so he could slow back down. He needed to talk to Len about this. He needed to know the truth. He needed to hear from Len’s own mouth whether he was who Oliver said he was. And if he was...well, Barry would figure that out when the time came. He couldn't think of that right now.

 

Slowing back down to normal speed, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, avoiding Oliver’s gaze. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll...talk to him.”

 

“You might have to do more than that, Barry,” Oliver stated. “If he’s lied to you already—”

 

“I know, alright?” Barry snapped, then grimaced. “Look, I’m sorry, Oliver, but I get it, okay? I need to get the truth and I will, but I’m going to do it my way.”

 

Oliver pursed his lips, but nodded. “Okay. If you need me…”

 

“I’ll call you,” Barry promised, smiling weakly. He glanced past Oliver, toward Len, who was standing a few paces ahead with Eddie. “You should get back to Starling. Tell Felicity I said hi.”

 

“I will,” Oliver nodded, letting Barry pass. He got into the car with Diggle and rolled down the window. “Barry, be safe.”

 

Barry stopped, his smile widening into a cheeky grin. “Aren’t I always?”

 

Oliver rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh, waving out the window as Diggle pulled away.

 

Barry watched them go before collecting himself and turning back toward the three men waiting for him. He forced a smile and joined them.

 

“Hey Barr, we were just talking about grabbing some drinks at my place,” Eddie smiled. “If you'd like to join?”

 

“Uh,” Barry shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “No, that's okay.” He glanced at Len, unable to read the expression he saw there. “I think I'm just gonna walk Len home. Thanks though.”

 

Eddie shrugged and pulled Barry into a hug, clapping him on the back and thanking him for a great bachelor party. He then shook Len’s hand and led Doyle in the opposite direction of Len and Barry. Barry was relieved. He and Len needed to talk.

  
He needed to know the truth and he would get it before the night was over. One way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, this chapter was a LOT longer than I originally intended. You're welcome? xD 
> 
> I was thinking about my "When Love Hurts" fic the other day and realized that, when I first started writing IIB, I promised myself I would finish WLH first, but found myself writing IIB more...um. Yeah, I'm 100% sure this story will be finished before WLH, considering I haven't even thought about that story since starting this one. xD I actually sat down and planned out the rest of the story last night and have an estimated chapter count (20 chapters) and word count (60,000 words). I'm super excited for the rest of this story and there's still SO much that needs to happen. I'll probably end up adjusting the chapter count because it's already longer than I imagined it would be, haha.
> 
> On another note, I loved the concept of this chapter and I've actually had the idea for Oliver and Len to recognize one another at Eddie's bachelor party from the very beginning. There was no way I could pass up on that tension. Also, you guys finally know what Len and Mick were up to. And you also know why Barry wasn't called in on the case. Clearly, this universe's Len is a bit different than the original because he's more willing to take his "business" outside Central City. In this universe, Len cares about his city a bit more, in a different way. He has things he cares about and that makes him have more respect for the people that live there.
> 
> I know a lot of you have been anticipating this part of the story and knew it would happen eventually. How could it not with how secretive Barry and Len have been? Um...I would apologize, but you all knew it was coming, right? Right? Okay, yeah. I would say the next chapter will be slower (and it might be because I have an essay due soon that I really should get started on), but every time I say that, it's a lie. So, I'm just gonna say the next chapter will be up at _some point_. x)
> 
> Again, thank you all for keeping up with this story and being so supportive and understanding. You're all wonderful. By the way, if you ever see any typos, please feel free to let me know. I only read through the chapters a handful of times before posting them and this story isn't beta'd, so I'm sure I make mistakes from time to time. :P
> 
> Just as a reminder, I'm on [Tumblr](http://areyoucoldflash.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/areyoucoldflash). Feel free to send me something. I check both pretty regularly. :)


	13. Identity and Surveillance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len learns a few things about what happened while he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally forgot to thank [i-dont-wanna-take-it-slow](http://i-dont-wanna-take-it-slow.tumblr.com/) and [thedorkbarry](http://thedorkbarry.tumblr.com/) last time for giving me ideas about what to name Len's bakery. Honestly, it was their idea to make a pun off icing that made me think of Frost Bites. So, props to them for being amazing! :D

The walk back to Len's apartment was awkward and far too quiet for Len's liking. It had him on edge, his jaw tense and his shoulders hunched as if he was waiting for a blow he knew was coming. And he knew something was coming, knew even before they got off the boat that things were about to go south. Having the Starling City playboy -- vigilante -- pull Barry aside just confirmed what he already knew.

He couldn't even say that he was surprised. With the way things were going, he knew the truth would come out eventually. He also knew it would be messy when it did. The two of them came from separate social circles, had different sets of morals...they just weren't compatible. And, if he was being honest with himself, he was too old for Barry. He should probably draw the line with men who were young enough to be his son. The thought made him sick to his stomach. If the two of them were twenty years younger...he refused to finish that thought, pushing it as far out of his mind as possible. There was no room for what-ifs here. Barry was twenty-six. He was an adult. Still young enough to be his son, but old enough to make his own decisions.

He frowned, curling his hands into fists as they approached his building. His expression morphed into a scowl, his gaze directed at the front door. He wouldn't be inviting Barry inside, not after their last night together. He couldn't bear the thought of a repeat. Because there was something about Barry...something about him that made Len weak, made him vulnerable in ways he hadn't been in so long. He'd made so much progress, had trained himself to be closed off...and all of that was ruined by this ridiculously clumsy kid who showed up late to his friend's cake tasting appointment.

"So..." the kid began, kicking at the sidewalk. He cleared his throat. "Thanks for coming today."

Len chanced a glance at him, but probably shouldn't have. The kid looked far too adorable when he was nervous, although the sad glint in his eye made Len feel things...things he only ever felt for Lisa. "Thanks for the invite, kid."

He wouldn't say something stupid like "anytime" or "of course" because those sounded too much like promises, promises he didn't know if he could keep.

After a beat of awkward silence, Barry sighed. "Len--"

"You should go home, Barry," Len interrupted, not entirely prepared for whatever the kid would say next. He didn't want to hear a goodbye. If he was going to leave, he would rather him just do it.

Barry's face went through an array of emotions before it settled on dejected disappointment. "What?"

Len frowned, averting his attention back to the door so he didn't have to see Barry's reactions anymore. "The fish will go bad if you don't freeze them."

It wasn't what he wanted to say. Not even close. He wanted to say _I'm sorry_ and _I knew it wouldn't work out between us_.

Barry shook the fish in the small bag he was carrying, furrowing his eyebrows. How had they gone from laughing and having a good time to Len being so...cold? Unless Len knew what Oliver had told him. Barry had thought they could at least talk about it. "You sure you don't want to fry one--"

Len shook his head. "Not tonight."

"Oh," Barry took a step back. "Some other time then?"

The older man's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Yeah."

But Barry knew from the tone of his voice what he really meant. Barry probably shouldn't expect a call or a text. As much as the thought of being lied to hurt, being rejected somehow hurt worse. Iris had been wrong. Inviting Len to hang out with his friends was a disaster.

"Cool," Barry muttered, tone flat. He avoided looking at Len, instead directing his attention to a kid riding his bike across the road. He watched as a few rocks caught in the wheel, spun around the spokes and were brought along for a short ride before they were thrown away. Barry wanted to laugh. He never thought he would be able to identify with rocks. "I guess I'll see you around then."

"See you around, kid," Len uttered quietly, moving to his door.

Barry didn't wait to say goodbye, just turned away and headed down the road, waiting until he was far enough away before channeling the speed force to run home. He didn't slow down when he arrived, just put the fish on the kitchen counter and went to his room before Joe could even realize he was back.

~*~

Barry didn't leave his room for a while. He laid on his bed with his back to the door and stared at the opposing wall, not even noticing as the room got darker and the sun went down.

Iris had already tried calling him, but he'd hit ignore and put his phone on silent. He didn't want to deal with her right now. He didn't want to have to explain why he wasn't at Len's, why the day had taken such a sudden turn.

Sometime in the night, after he was engulfed in absolute darkness, there was a knock on his door. He didn't reply, but wasn't too surprised when it opened anyway. He heard Joe step into the room, the man's weight shifting over the floorboards. Barry frowned and didn't bother to hide it when he buried his face a little deeper into his pillow. Joe probably knew he was awake anyway.

"I found the fish you left on the counter," Joe's voice sounded too loud in the silent room. The older man sighed when Barry didn't respond, the mattress dipping down when he took a seat. "What happened today, Barry?"

He shook his head, wondering if he should talk about this with his foster father. He didn't even know anything, Len had neither confirmed nor denied what Oliver told him. Although, Len's eagerness to get him to leave should probably speak volumes about the baker's guilt. Len wasn't avoiding him for no reason.

Joe whistled. “That bad, huh?"

Barry closed his eyes, willing his tears to disappear. Crying in front of Joe was the last thing he needed. And crying over Len...well, it made him feel like a reprimanded teenager with a silly crush. He really should have known better. The movies were always wrong. In the real world, the hero didn't get the guy in the end.

He didn't get his family either, apparently. So what, exactly, did he get aside from a tripolymer suit and an increased metabolism?

"Barr," Joe stated softly, squeezing his arm. "Talk to me."

"Nothing to talk about, Joe," Barry rasped, hating that his voice sounded as wrecked as it did. He didn't want Joe to worry. He just wanted to be left alone.

Joe grunted. "Do I need to show up on his doorstep with a gun?"

Barry probably would have been mortified or amused if he wasn't still replaying his interaction with Len in his mind. "Joe, can -- can we please not do this right now?"

"Want me to call Iris?"

"No!" he snapped before he could stop himself. He took a deep breath and composed himself enough to roll over onto his back to look up at his foster father. He would be so much happier in a place of his own, where he could fall apart in peace. "Joe, I'm fine. Really. I'm just tired, okay? It's been a long day."

Joe didn't look like he believed him, and Barry didn't really blame him. It wasn't the most convincing excuse, but he _was_ tired, just not in the way Joe thought. He was emotionally exhausted.

Joe pursed his lips, but nodded stiffly, getting to his feet. He pointed a finger at Barry. "Okay, but I'm leaving my gun loaded in case you change your mind."

Barry managed a snort at that, rolling his eyes. "Okay. Thanks."

Joe nodded, taking a good look at him in the darkness. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Barry's frown returned. Had Len hurt him? He shook his head. "No, Joe. I'm okay."

Len hadn't hurt him. At least, not physically. Probably not purposefully. Or maybe that last one was a lie. Barry didn't know what to think anymore.

"Good. I love you, Barr."

Barry forced a smile before rolling back onto his side, burying his face back into his pillow. "Love you too."

~*~

Len didn't go into his apartment after Barry left. Instead, he descended the steps and headed in the direction of the bakery. He figured he could at least check to make sure Lisa and Mick hadn't burned the place down or scared away all the customers.

He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Barry somewhere down the road, but there was no one there. He frowned, not surprised by the idea of Barry sprinting home after what Oliver Queen had probably told him. Good. The more distance between them, the better. Len couldn't risk getting thrown in prison because of a kid half his age.

"Lenny!" Lisa greeted when he entered the bakery. "You're back early."

The place smelled of freshly made spaghetti sauce and pizzas. He furrowed his eyebrows.  
  
He ignored his sister's prying gaze and went through to the kitchen, eyes moving around the room. The counters were lined with ingredients, hot sandwiches, chopped salads, and mini pizzas on tiered displays, ready to be put out.

He turned to Mick at his workspace and crossed his arms. He had specifically told him just to frost the cupcakes and whoopie pies. He said nothing about cooking meals. His customers didn't expect meals. They wouldn't come in to buy them. "Mick."

Mick stopped mid-chop and glanced up, a broad smile tugging at his lips. The burly man was wearing a pink apron, an apron Len didn't even know he had, and he looked absolutely ridiculous. "Snart. You're back early."

"So I've heard," Len stated slowly, gaze flicking to his sister as she came in behind him. "What are you two up to?"

Lisa grinned innocently, throwing an arm around Mick's neck and shrugging casually. "We got hungry. Mick wanted to cook. We got a bit carried away."

"A bit?" he questioned, glancing around. All of this food was going to go to waste. This wasn't just food, this was his money they were wasting. His business.

"You should start serving dinner," Lisa commented, tugging Mick against her side. "Mick, here, has a knack for it. Plus, you're always saying you could use some help around here."

Len rolled his eyes. "I only said that to get you to stay."

Lisa snorted, but then her expression changed. "Speaking of help around the bakery...why are you back so early? Did loverboy not want to suck you off--"

"Lisa," he growled.

"You hooked up with pretty boy?" Mick questioned, lifting his eyebrows, smile widening. "How was he?"

Len didn't dignify that with a response, instead turning around and walking to the back office, where he kept most of his supplies and order forms. He took a seat at the small desk he had crammed in the back of the room, throwing his feet up. He leaned back in the chair, eyeing the three security monitors on the desk. He wasn't surprised to find Lisa and Mick arguing back and forth, Mick waving the cutting knife haphazardly as he spoke. The two of them were children. Even if Mick was two years older than him.

He rolled his eyes and grabbed the keyboard, deciding to change the channel. He pulled up the security footage from Barry's first day of training, remembering the day vividly. Barry hadn't asked as many questions as Len thought he would, but he'd paid close attention. The fact that the bakery was still standing when he got back proved what a quick learner the kid was.

He frowned at the thought and fast forwarded to Barry's first day, watching in mild interest when Barry's friend Cisco and a pretty brunette walked through the front door. Barry looked happy, and a little relieved, to see them, especially when the brunette offered the kid a coffee. Len would never understand the kid's obsession with the beverage. He drank too much of it, as far as he was concerned.

Not that it mattered anymore, he reminded himself.

He rolled his eyes when Lisa showed up at the bakery, his gaze flicking between the three monitors as he watched Barry and Lisa's interaction while also watching Barry's friends eat two more cupcakes in his absence. So, Barry hadn't eaten all those cupcakes after all. Although, he'd still eaten over twenty of them.

Len probably wouldn't be needing all the extra cupcake ingredients he'd ordered anymore.

Len watched his sister interrogate and intimidate Barry. The kid hadn't been lying when he said his sister was terrifying. How she hadn't completely scared the kid off was beyond him.

He fast forwarded to the next day, noticing in the swirl of motion that Barry danced through his evening chores. Len smiled despite himself.

He watched the next day's footage, noticing that Barry nearly dropped three pans of baked goods on the way to the ovens that morning. The kid was clumsier than usual, stumbling around the kitchen and fumbling with pans and frosting.

Len's attention was brought to Iris on the middle monitor as she walked through the door with a couple coffees in her hand. Len wasn't surprised. The kid clearly needed the caffeine to function properly. He couldn't help but wonder if the espresso machine he'd bought had been a great idea or a horrible one. It had been a highly impulsive buy and he didn't even have a use for it. At least he'd bought it with his own money.

A stream of motion caught his eye on the left monitor, but by the time he turned his attention to the kitchen, it was gone and showed up on the middle monitor. He hit pause and turned his attention to the middle monitor, noticing that Barry was there, sharing a panicked look with Iris. Len rewound it and hit play, keeping his eyes on the left monitor this time. In the few seconds it took Iris to holler his name, Barry moved from the left monitor to the middle, a streak of yellow lightning trailing behind him.

Len paused it and played it again, keeping his eyes on Barry the whole time. He paused the recording every few second, noticing the fuzzy outline of Barry's face in the yellow lightning.

His mind went back to the information he'd gathered earlier that afternoon, that Cisco somehow knew the Flash.

Of course he did.

Len did too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter was a bit bland. I swear, I tried leading it in a different direction, but Len was having none of it. He was supposed to argue and fight with Barry, not completely push him away. But ah well, it still had the desired effect. The idiots are no longer talking to each other...for now. Maybe. :P
> 
> *sighs* Barry is sulking, Len is trying to convince himself not to like the kid anymore because their whole situation is _complicated_ , and all of their friends/family are concerned.
> 
> But that's not the end of it, folks. Oh no. There will be more drama to come, which I've been itching to write for weeks. It includes a character that never made it into canon (I don't know if he ever will?) but he's definitely in the comics and it will give me the chance to write about Barry's past. :D
> 
> I'm gonna stop so I don't give too much away. I know it says on here that there are only 6 chapters left, but don't trust that too much. It could change. Very easily, actually.
> 
> Reminder: You're all incredible, beautiful people<3


	14. Jobs and Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len plans things and Barry gets an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout (and a huge thank you) to Scarlet for making an [aesthetic post](http://areyoucoldflash.tumblr.com/post/141226908366/youreturningscarletscarlet-with-a-wedding-right) for this fic. It totally made my week. <333

Len wasn't angry. At least, not at first. When he'd first seen a snippet of the Flash on his surveillance, he'd been somewhat intrigued. But then he kept watching the footage, witnessed the Flash in action against an irate customer, watched as the customer gave it right back, firing lightning bolts from his hands.  
  
He watched as the hero circled the customer, tossing his own lightning in his direction. Eventually, the speedster got the upper hand and tossed him against the counter, pulling him into the kitchen just before another customer came through.   
  
Len would have been impressed if the lightning thrower hadn't been one of Len's best customers. This was Len's _business_.   
  
After seeing all the footage, Len was furious. How dare Barry use his powers against one of Len's customers? More importantly, how dare the kid get upset about Len keeping a secret when he, himself, was keeping one just as big?  
  
When Lisa appeared in the doorway, he turned a sharp gaze on her, challenging her to say something else about him being back early. Instead, she merely lifted an eyebrow and waited, knowing his moods well enough to know he'd share when he was done being an idiot.   
  
After a moment of tense silence, Len got to his feet and called for Mick, who peered in behind Lisa. He glanced between the two of them. "I have a job if the two of you are interested."   
  
Mick grunted. "What kinda job?"   
  
Len glanced away and approached a black case in the corner. He lifted it in his arms and undid the clasps, popping the case open to show him. "Something that involves you using this."   
  
Mick's eyes raked over the heavy gun, a slow smile twitching at his lips. "What's it do, boss?"   
  
"Why don't we go somewhere less...flammable and you can see for yourself," Len suggested, earning an eager grin from the man.   
  
Lisa pouted. "Where's my gun?"   
  
Len flicked his gaze to her, tilting his head. "Don't worry, sis, I didn't forget." He nodded toward another case. "There's one for you too. I know how much you like gold."   
  
Lisa's eyes lit up. "Where did you get these?"   
  
Len smirked. "Let's just say not all S.T.A.R. Labs employees are so eager to return to their previous employer." He eyed the two of them. "So, the job. Are you in or out?"   
  
"Is that even a question?" Lisa scoffed. "We're in."   
  
"It's time to burn, baby," Mick grinned.   
  
And, for once, Len was entirely okay with him burning a few things to the ground.

 

~*~

 

Barry woke up the next morning to the fresh smell of coffee and caramel. He groaned and buried his face further into his pillow, clicking a button on his phone to snooze his alarm. He really was not ready to face the day. He hadn’t exactly gotten much sleep the night before. He distinctly remembered falling asleep around five in the morning. It was now 6:42AM.

 

Today was going to be a long day.

 

Hearing his door creak open, Barry peeked an eye open to find Iris at his door, holding a cup of coffee and a plate of pastries. The smell made his stomach growl and he hummed, pushing himself up to sit against the headboard. “Are those—”

 

“Sticky buns with pecan caramel sauce,” Iris nodded with a smile. She sat down next to him, tucking her legs beneath her, and passed him the plate. “With extra caramel. Just the way you like them.”

 

Barry stole one and took a bite of the soft, gooey pastry, tilting his head back dramatically. He heard Iris chuckle and shared a small smile with her. He eyed the coffee. “Is that mine?”

 

She rolled her eyes at him, but offered him the mug.

 

He avoided her gaze as she watched him drink his coffee and devour the pastries, knowing what was coming as soon as he was fully awake. He shouldn’t have ignored her phone call the night before. Now she would never leave this alone.

 

“Barry,” she sighed once he was done with his breakfast. “What happened yesterday? I mean, I’m getting two different stories here. Eddie told me the bachelor party couldn’t have gone better, but when dad called last night…”

 

Barry groaned, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling. “He called you?”

 

“He was worried,” she justified. “He said he hasn’t seen you this upset since you found out the truth about Wells.”

 

Barry frowned, hiding it by taking the last sip of coffee. He knew Joe was worried, but did he really have to call Iris? He sighed. “I...I don’t think I’ll be seeing Len again.”

 

“What? But things were going so well. Why would—”

 

“He lied to me,” he muttered, which sounded like a horrible excuse when said out of context. He huffed and plowed on, “He’s a thief, Iris. He needed me to watch the bakery so he could go rob some armored cars in Starling.”

 

And when said like that, Barry’s anger came back because not only had Len lied to him, but he’d gotten Barry to play a part in his scheme. Without Barry watching the bakery, Len might not have gone. He was practically an accomplice and, at the very least, an enabler.

 

Iris’s eyes widened. “Oliver…”

 

“Oliver recognized him,” Barry confirmed with a nod. He glanced down at his empty coffee mug and tilted it, watching a few drops of tan liquid slide around the bottom. “I thought I could trust him, but...I guess I didn’t really know anything about him.”

 

“Did you try talking to him about it? Maybe it’s a misunderstanding,” she suggested, sounding hopeful.

 

“Yeah, I thought that at first too. But when I tried to talk to him...he pushed me away. I figure that’s as good as an answer, right?”

 

“Oh Barr,” she frowned, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

 

He shrugged. “It’s okay.” It wasn't okay, but he could pretend.

 

She pursed her lips. “Dad doesn’t know he’s a criminal, does he?”

 

Barry snorted. “No. He would have had him in handcuffs before I could even say _don’t_. You won’t tell him, will you? As angry as I am at Len, I don’t want to be the reason he’s thrown in prison.”

 

She offered him a sad smile and squeezed his arm reassuringly. “Of course not. Len’s secret is safe with me.” She paused. “Although, you know dad is going to grill you until he gets the truth. You might want to come up with something before you see him.”

 

“Oh shit,” Barry set his cup down and threw the covers off. “What time is it?”

 

She glanced at her phone. “7:15, why?”

 

He jumped out of bed and sped around his room, pulling clothes from his drawers. “I needed to be at work fifteen minutes ago!”

 

“Oops,” Iris muttered, picking up the plate and Barry’s empty coffee mug, not at all fazed by Barry's lateness. It wasn't the first time it'd happened and probably wouldn't be the last. She left his room to put the dishes in the sink, pouring some coffee into a travel mug and leaning back against the counter to wait.

 

She didn’t have to wait long. Barry flashed into the kitchen moments later, taking the travel mug from her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, Iris. You’re a lifesaver.”

 

She grinned and sighed. “Tell me something I don’t know.” He grinned, about to say something when she shoved at his chest. “Go or you'll be even later! But don’t think I’m letting you off this easy. I want details, Barry.”

 

He rolled his eyes. He should have known she wouldn’t accept his brief explanation. “Fine, okay. Bye Iris!”

 

He turned and sped off to work, showing up twenty minutes late and on the receiving end of Singh’s wrath.

 

“No more late days, Allen,” the man growled, pointing a finger at his chest. “I mean it!”

 

“Right, of course!” Barry nodded, fumbling with the paperwork that was shoved at him the moment he stepped through the door. “It won’t happen again!”

 

“Good,” Captain Singh nodded, hands on his hips. He nodded toward the lab. “Now go get your things. There’s been a robbery at Central City Jewelers. Paulson’s leaving in five minutes. Be ready or find your own ride.”

Captain Singh stormed off and Barry felt himself relax a bit, letting out a sigh of relief before taking the steps two at a time to drop off the paperwork and grab his supplies from the lab. No more late days. Right.

~*~

  
"Barry?"   
  
Barry froze at the sound of his name. He'd been avoiding Joe ever since he'd arrived at the crime scene, which was no easy feat considering the man was  _everywhere_. Thankfully, Eddie had caught on pretty quickly and pulled Joe away to look over something. Barry was grateful, but knew it was only a matter of time before the man cornered him.   
  
Barry dropped some hair samples into a bag and sealed it, slowly turning around to find a familiar face just on the other side of the yellow tape. He felt every hair stand on end and his heart stop. He couldn't be... "Manny?"   
  
The man's signature bright smile appeared and there was no denying who it was. And Barry...well, he felt a little breathless.

Manuel looked around the destroyed jewelry store, but quickly returned his attention to Barry.   
  
"You know, when I told you all those years ago to find meaning in your life, I didn't mean to do it by almost dying." His eyes roamed over Barry in a way not entirely dissimilar to the way Len's often did. It made Barry squirm, his heart hammering. He hadn't seen Manuel since college, not since... "You look good for a guy who got struck by lightning."   
  
Barry stared at him, dumbfounded. How had Manuel even heard about that? Better yet, why did he wait so long to come visit if he knew? He frowned, glancing down at the evidence in his hands. "What are you doing here, Manny?"   
  
Manuel tilted his head, a good-natured smile on his lips. "You make it sound like you're not happy to see me." When Barry didn't say anything, Manuel frowned. "Barry, I—"   
  
"Barry! There you are! Do you know how hard it's been—" Joe interrupted, and Barry didn't know who he was more anxious about seeing. If he could flash out of there without being noticed, he would.   
  
Joe stopped mid-sentence when he noticed a civilian was so close to the crime scene. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Barry, who's this?"   
  
"Oh, uh, this is—" Barry fumbled, scratching at the back of his neck and wincing.   
  
"Manuel Lago," Manuel supplied, his bright smile returning. Barry had been won over so many times by that smile. Far too many times now that he thought about it.   
  
Joe's eyes widened and he pointed between the two of them. "You mean, the Manuel Lago? The one you dated in college?"   
  
Barry sighed and lowered his gaze, wanting to crawl under a rock. This was definitely not how he wanted to spend his day. He really just wanted to finish his work, go home, and sleep for the rest of the week. He had no desire to make small talk with his ex or explain _anything_  to Joe.   
  
"The one and only," Manuel chirped, spreading his arms as if he was offering himself as a prize. It would be a tempting prize if Barry wasn't already intimately aware of what the prize actually contained. "And you must be the foster father I heard so much about."   
  
Joe lifted an eyebrow and glanced at Barry, a silent question passing through his eyes that Barry just frowned at. Joe's expression turned a bit sour and he nodded stiffly at Manuel. "I am. Now, I don't know if you've noticed but this building—" he motioned around with a pointer finger. "—is an active crime scene. Unless you're a part of the CCPD, I'm gonna have to ask you to take a step out onto the sidewalk until we're finished."   
  
Surprisingly, Manuel's smile didn't falter. He merely shrugged and turned his attention to Barry. "We should catch up sometime, Allen. Maybe grab a cup of coffee at that coffee shop you always told me about? What was it called? Shivers?"   
  
Barry glanced up at him, a little surprised that he remembered, even if he did get the name wrong. "It's Jitters."   
  
He paused, glancing at Joe and weighing his options. Getting out of the house sounded pretty good with everything that had happened lately. Plus, Manuel would provide a pretty good distraction.   
  
He glanced back at the crime scene, biting his lip. "I'm not sure when I'll be done tonight."   
  
"Hey, I'm free whenever you are," Manuel commented, offering a small smile. "Just come find me when you're done."   
  
Manuel was already walking away and Barry rushed forward. "Wait! Where can I find you?"   
  
Manuel glanced over his shoulder with a short laugh. "Figure it out, Barr. It's not that hard."   
  
Without another word, Manuel walked away, leaving Barry to stare after him, feeling like he'd just been punched in the gut. He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up at Joe.   
  
Joe reflected his expression. "You okay, Barr?"   
  
Barry frowned and nodded, pulling from Joe's grasp and returning to the crime scene. As he continued processing evidence, his mind drifted. Normally he would have had a pretty good idea what type of criminal they were looking for, but with everything that was happening lately — with finding out the truth about Len, being pushed away from the older man, and with Manuel randomly showing up — he was distracted.   
  
"You're gonna have to talk about it eventually, son," Joe muttered from somewhere behind him.   
  
He frowned.

Yeah, he probably would. Right now, though, wasn't the time or the place and Barry...he just needed a little space, a little time to think. Or maybe just some time to not think at all. He was pretty sure Manuel would either add to the list of things to worry about or be a perfect distraction. Barry wasn't sure if he wanted to change it...but he couldn't back out now...could he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was definitely supposed to be a lot longer, but I have so much planned that I'm splitting it into two chapters. If I end up writing the next chapter tonight, it should be up tomorrow. Otherwise, you might have to wait a few more days.
> 
> Soooo, this story is about to get a bit more complicated and I'm extremely excited about it. Manuel will add an interesting sideplot to this, but will also play a minor role in the main plot too. For those wondering who he is, he's in volume 1 of The New 52 comics (Move Forward). [This](https://cannoncanvas.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/the-flash-4-3.jpg) is the scene that inspired this chapter. I may have stolen a line from that scene and tweaked it to fit this story. So, uh, shoutout to Francis Manapul and Brian Buccellato for that.
> 
> Also, there are a few references to other coldflash fics in this chapter. If you catch them, you should definitely let me know! :)
> 
> Thanks again for all the reads, kudos, comments, etc. This week has been a rough one (for reasons I've explained on my [Tumblr](http://areyoucoldflash.tumblr.com)) and reading your love for this fic makes me so happy. I can't even explain how incredible you all are. Thank you<3


	15. Memories and Layers of Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry reunites with Manuel and Len...well, he doesn't deal with things very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, I should probably warn all of you that there's reference to mental abuse and physical/sexual abuse in the first half of this chapter. Once again, I didn't plan for this to happen, it just sort of...did?
> 
> To add to that pile of pain, if you want to listen to a song that'll just make it hurt worse, you can listen to [Save My Soul by JoJo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_TTB3lu7irY) because it perfectly describes Barry's relationship with Manuel. It also perfectly describes Len's life, to a certain extent. I find myself listening to it a lot while planning/writing this story. 
> 
> Okay, carry on.

They met at Missouri State University. It was a few days before the new semester was due to start and Barry had just moved into his dorm. His roommate hadn’t moved in yet and one of the fraternities was hosting a party for the Criminal Justice students. Everyone, including those with minors in the field, was invited, but Barry didn’t know anyone and wasn’t entirely enthusiastic about meeting new people. So, when his roommate finally showed up and asked him if he knew about the party, Barry’s initial reaction was to lie, but figured telling the truth was the better of the two approaches.

 

“I don’t know anyone that'll be there,” Barry muttered as an excuse.

 

His roommate, who introduced himself as Manuel, had raised his eyebrow and paused in the middle of unpacking. “Isn’t the point of parties to meet people?”

 

Barry flushed, ducking his head in faint embarrassment.

 

Manuel pushed his stuff to the side and sat down on the bed beside Barry, offering a hand. “I’m Manuel Lago.”

 

Barry stared at his hand in bemusement. “I...you already told me that.”

 

Manuel’s lips parted in a grin and he clapped his hand on Barry’s shoulder. “Then you already know someone who will be there. Sin preocupaciones, mi amigo.”

 

Barry smiled weakly. “I’m not much of a party person.”

 

Manuel waved him off, returning to his own side of the room to finish unpacking. “Me neither, but it’s a chance to see what type of people we’ll be studying with, right?”

 

He had a point. Although, Barry still wasn’t so sure about this. “I mean, yeah, I guess…”

 

“Fantástico! I knew I could count on you, Barrito,” Manuel chirped happily, collapsing onto his bed with a huff. He shot Barry a bright smile, his teeth perfectly aligned, most likely due to braces in childhood. “We’re gonna be good friends, you and I.”

 

Barry laid down and rolled onto his back, grimacing at the nickname, but remaining silent. Good friends. Yeah, right.

 

The party had been a dud, but Manuel was right about them being good friends. For the first year they were roomed together, they were practically attached at the hip. They went to the dining hall together most mornings and evenings, had the same general education classes together, and went to the same room every night. The only reprieve they got from one another was during the classes pertaining to their majors and whenever Barry went to the library to study.

 

Barry didn’t mind the company, was actually grateful for it with him being away from home, but things began to change. _He_ began to change. Most of the changes weren’t bad. He was becoming more outgoing and much more comfortable in his own skin. And for the first time since it happened, he wasn’t constantly thinking about his mother’s murder and his father’s incarceration. He felt _great_.

 

But there were some negative changes too. Although he was becoming more outgoing and independent, he was also becoming too reliant on Manuel. During their second semester, whenever Manuel missed a class or decided to go out with friends, Barry felt a little lost. He became so accustomed to their original routine that any disruption left him feeling anxious. It was then that Barry knew he needed to spend a little more time away from his roommate.

 

The next year, he requested one of the suites in another building, where he could have a room to himself, but still be in the presence of other students. He shared the suite with one other student named Jimmy. The kid was always holed up in his own bedroom, the door firmly closed, unless there was something on TV that he wanted to watch in the conjoined living room. Barry didn’t mind the separation as much as he thought he would. It was a relief after a full year of feeling like he was living on top of someone else. He and his suite-mate shared passing smalltalk from time to time and that was enough interaction to keep Barry from feeling lonely.

 

When Manuel came over the first time, Barry hadn’t expected the kiss. He hadn’t even been thinking about it. Not that he’d _never_ thought about it, but the kiss took him by surprise. One minute they were arguing over Barry spending too much time alone and the next Manuel was kissing him, fingers buried in his hair with a hand on his outer thigh. As surprised as he was, Barry didn’t pull away. He’d wanted this. He’d craved it. Every time he’d watched Manuel change in their dorm room; every time Manuel came back from the showers, skin still glistening with water; and every time he heard Manuel beat off in the middle of the night when he thought Barry was sleeping, Barry had _craved_ to touch and _be_ touched.

 

So, when Manuel’s hand inched toward Barry’s dick, he didn’t say no. And when Manuel had slicked his dick with lube and fucked him without properly opening him up first, Barry tried not to scream in pain. Tried not to cry when Manuel was finally done. Tried not to push Manuel away when he kissed him goodbye and left without helping him clean up afterwards. He took a shower, washed his bedsheets, and ignored the questioning gaze from his suite-mate as he walked uncomfortably through their suite before closing himself away in his bedroom. He crawled into a ball on the floor instead of getting back on his bed, staring at the piece of furniture like it had somehow betrayed him.

 

When he slept on the couch in the living room that night, Jimmy didn’t question it. After the second night of sleeping in the living room, Barry woke up to find a blanket over him and a pillow wedged beneath his head. He offered Jimmy a small word of thanks, but Jimmy didn’t mention it, just shrugged and left for class.

 

Barry probably needed to do the same, but didn’t want to attend the same class as Manuel anymore. Valuing his education, he went anyway, trying to ignore Manuel as he sat a few rows in front of him. Of course, he couldn’t avoid his former roommate forever, and found an arm around his shoulders as soon as he made it out of the classroom. Manuel smiled at him like nothing had even happened, like _it would never happen again_ , and that was how he won Barry over. That was how Manuel convinced Barry to go on a date, how he convinced Barry to go away with him for the weekend, how he convinced Barry to sleep with him again.

 

Things never got better between them and Barry never admitted the nature of their relationship to Joe, just told his foster father that it was nothing serious. Iris was the only one who knew the truth, but Barry only told her after a lot of prying on her end, and she was the one who convinced him to break up with Manuel.

 

As it turned out, it wouldn’t have mattered either way. A few weeks after going their separate ways, Manuel left for the army without so much as a goodbye and Barry never saw him again. At least, not until he showed up at Barry’s crime scene in Central City.

 

And Barry didn’t know what to do about that. He didn’t know what there was _to say_ to the man who had taken advantage of the scared college freshman he used to be. But things were different now. _He_ was different now. He was the Flash; he was Central City’s hero. He knew who he was now and could stand up for himself. He wasn’t so easily manipulated. Except maybe he was.

 

He sighed, mind on Len and what the older man could be doing at eight in the evening, and made his way into Jitters. The place was still packed with college students and the occasional worker, but it wasn’t nearly as busy as it usually was. He forwent the coffee, despite how tired he felt, and found Manuel at a table in the corner. The man looked up at him with a smile and got to his feet, moving in for a hug that Barry was too distracted to dodge. He accepted the hug awkwardly and took a seat, keeping his jacket on and sitting back in his chair, putting as much distance between them as possible.

 

If Manuel noticed Barry’s discomfort, he didn’t show it. Instead, he motioned around. “I can see why you always talked about this place. It’s nice.”

 

Barry nodded shortly, glancing around and hoping to see a familiar face. No such luck. “Yeah.” He clenched and unclenched his fist and cleared his throat. “So, what brings you to Central City?”

 

Manuel huffed a laugh. “Always straight to the point with you, huh? Can’t a man come visit his ex?”

 

Barry turned to him with raised eyebrows. Who, in their right mind, would think visiting an ex was a good idea?

 

Manuel’s smile faltered only slightly before it came back. He laughed and reached forward to punch Barry on the arm. “Look, Barrito—” Barry tried very hard not to scowl at the old nickname. “—I’m finally out of the military, heard from an old friend that you were struck by lightning, and thought I’d come check on you.” He shrugged. “I was worried, Barrito.”

 

Barry huffed angrily. “ _Don’t call me that_.”

 

“What?” Manuel questioned innocently, eyes wide. “Barrito? Lo siento, I thought you liked when I called you that.”

 

“I didn’t,” Barry ground out through gritted teeth. And he _hated_ when Manuel spoke in Spanish to him. If it was anyone else, Barry would have been fine. Hell, when _Cisco_ talked to him in Spanish, Barry was fine with it, but with Manuel, it always felt belittling.

 

Manuel furrowed his eyebrows. “You never complained before.”

 

He also didn’t complain about Manuel fucking him that first night, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. Barry glanced away. “Why are you really here, Manuel? I mean, you didn’t exactly leave on good terms.”

 

Manuel sighed, sitting back to glare at the man across from him. “Really, Barry, I came here to see you, but you’re not acting like you’re excited to see me.”

 

Barry continued to avoid his gaze, remaining silent.

 

“Wow,” Manuel bit out a humorless laugh, scooting his chair back and getting to his feet. “I thought after all these years — I guess I’ll just leave then.”

 

Barry felt old feelings niggling at his defenses, felt himself start to feel _guilty_ for not treating Manny better. After all, he’d just gotten out of the military. Maybe he was different now too.

 

Barry sighed and got to his feet, reaching out a hand, but not touching. “Manny, wait.”

 

Manuel stopped short and turned to face him, face relaxing a fraction. The man eyed Barry carefully, lips twitching. “You really do look great, Barry.”

 

Barry nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You look good too, Manny. The military suits you.”

 

Manuel snorted, but was stopped from saying anything by Barry’s phone blaring the Star Wars theme song.

 

Barry blushed and answered it in a rush, a little thankful for the interruption. “Cisco?”

 

“Barry!” Cisco’s frantic voice came through the phone. “You need to get to S.T.A.R. Labs _now_.”

 

Barry furrowed his eyebrows. “Why? What’s wrong?” He glanced up at Manuel, offering an apologetic smile.

 

“Dude, did your phone not notify you of the break-in? The metahumans, Barry, they’re gone!”

 

“What do you mean, _gone_?” Barry demanded, feeling panic rise in his chest.

 

“Like, _gone_ , dude. Someone broke them out of their cells.”

 

“Who?” Barry’s mind raced, reflecting on all the metahumans they’d had trapped in the pipeline and anyone outside willing to help them. His mind briefly jumped to Eobard, but he couldn't be back yet, could he? They'd sent him (and, unfortunately, Ronnie) far back into the past.

 

“No idea!” Cisco sighed. “We got it on camera, but—”

 

“I’ll be right there,” Barry promised, hanging up. He glanced up at Manuel with a frown. “Look, Manny, I’m sorry, but—”

 

Manuel shook his head, holding up a hand. “Something came up. I get it, Barr. Go.”

 

“Thanks,” Barry muttered before pushing his way past him, feeling a little guilty, even though he had no reason to. He didn't owe his ex anything.

 

“And Barry?”

 

Barry turned, walking backward toward the exit.

 

“Maybe we could hook up sometime? Like old times?” And when Manuel smiled the smile that had won him over so many times, Barry was surprised to find that it no longer had an effect on him.

 

He shook his head, smiling a little to himself. “Sorry, Manny. I’m sort of seeing someone. It was good to see you though.”

 

Manuel laughed and shrugged. “Should’a guessed. It was worth a try. See you around, Barrito.”

 

Barry glared before turning and stepping out into the night, speeding off to S.T.A.R. Labs as soon as he was out of sight. He and Len may not have been on speaking terms, but the feelings were still there. Unfortunately for Manuel, only one smile had that effect on Barry now...and that was Len’s.

 

~*~

 

When Barry arrived at S.T.A.R. Labs, he nearly fell to the floor when his feet slipped out from underneath him. Luckily, the wall broke his fall and he clung to it, looking around the room with wide eyes.

 

“Watch your step,” Caitlin muttered a moment too late, glancing up from her chair. “Whoever broke in covered the floor in ice.”

 

Barry eyed the floor, tried to speed across it, but ended up on his ass. He swore and rubbed at his backside.

 

“She warned you, man,” Cisco laughed, helping him to his feet.

 

Offering him a sarcastic smile, Barry carefully moved across the floor to stand behind Caitlin and gaze at the computer screen. “Who did this?”

 

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Caitlin frowned, rewinding the security footage. “Whoever it was wore goggles so we weren’t able to do facial recognition.”

 

Cisco scoffed. “Except one of them.” He rolled his eyes and motioned toward the screen. “Show him, Caitlin.”

 

Caitlin rewound it and hit play. The familiar baby-faced scientist appeared on the screen, wearing his signature black-framed glasses and a sly smile as he sauntered into the cortex. Hartley seemed to say something to someone over his shoulder and then two men entered behind him. The last one into the room stopped just inside the doorway, glancing around with a lift of his eyebrow.

 

Barry felt a lump rise in his throat at the familiar face. Despite the goggles, Barry recognized him almost immediately. He watched in silence as the men left the room and Caitlin switched to a grid-view of the security footage, showing as each of the cells were opened to release the metahumans. He watched the one in the blue parka talk to each metahuman, leaning casually against the wall with his gun at his side. The other man stood beside him, a gun of his own resting snugly in his hands. Barry knew one of them was the cold gun even without Cisco having to mention it.

 

Hartley and the man in the turnout jacket, who Barry could only assume was Mick, led the metas out through the cortex, but Len paused and glanced around. He spotted the security camera and smirked, lifting his gun and nodding his head in silent gratitude. What he did next had Barry turning away, not wanting to see the older man tear through the lab, freezing the floor at his feet and the chemicals in the next room. He didn’t want to see the shattering of beakers and the frosting of the treadmill that Cisco had worked so hard to adjust for Barry’s speed. And he definitely didn’t want to see the broad smile and wave he aimed at the camera before he covered it in a layer of ice.

 

Barry didn’t want to see any of it. He didn’t want to believe that Len was capable of doing any of this, he didn’t want to see the man like this. Because the man that Barry had spent so many weeks getting to know was _nice_ to him, treated him with _respect_ , but suddenly everything had changed. Barry didn’t even recognize him anymore.

  
Feeling like the world was falling away from him, Barry skated his way out of the cortex and sped out of the building, ignoring the new nickname Cisco was giving Len and the questions Caitlin was yelling after him. He ignored it all and ran away, disappearing into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, this chapter snuck up on me. I totally ended up crying while writing the first half of this, probably harder than I did when I wrote the part for Len. I'm not even sure why. Maybe because, with Len, I kinda expect bad things to happen to him because it's always alluded to in canon? But when Barry gets hurt, it just hurts _worse_ somehow. Or maybe it's just me being more emotional this week. *shrugs* Either way, Manuel and the guy who hurt Len (who I'm just going to start calling Bob because I haven't named him) are manipulative jerks who don't deserve these two wonderful idiots.
> 
> Anyway. Uh. Heh, did anyone see the last half of this chapter coming? Len is really bad at handling his emotions and Lisa totally has no idea that they're breaking into S.T.A.R. Labs to get back at Barry (Barry doesn't know that yet either, but he's got a feeling). She just thinks they're freeing the metahumans because the Flash imprisoned them (which, I mean, isn't far from the truth...except Len and Lisa have no idea that Team Flash is actually trying to rehabilitate them...without much success, but still). And Mick really doesn't care as long as he can burn stuff. But HEY! Now we have the Rogues. Or the beginnings of it, at least.
> 
> This chapter, despite how sad it was, was fun to write. Does that make me sadistic or evil? My mom actually told me recently that I'm scary because I'm willing to kill off characters if it works with the plot, so...(don't worry, I wasn't talking about this story with her, Len and Barry are safe). Anyway, if you want more feels, go listen to that song I linked at the beginning of the chapter, but you could also listen to [All I Want by Kodaline](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqJoVlnmdFQ), [It's Not Over by Daughtry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgqrqY3LUcQ), or [All I Wanted by Paramore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W7nmB20qJv4), all of which I listened to while writing this. :D


	16. Rogues and...what do you mean he's missing?!?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loathe time jumps in stories with a passion but, alas, there are a few of those in here.

Barry sped to Len’s apartment first, but didn’t have a key. He tried knocking, but that only led to an angry yell out one of the first floor windows and a half-eaten sandwich thrown down from the fourth floor. Barry scowled at Len’s neighbors and stalked away, heading toward the bakery.

 

He pounded angrily on the locked door, pausing a few times to listen for any movement. Hearing nothing, he kicked and screamed at the building until Mrs. Bourque peeked her head out of the building next door and asked him if he was alright.

 

“Oh,” Barry jumped, snapping out of his rage. “Um, yeah. I’m fine. I just — have you seen Len?”

 

She eyed him skeptically and shook her head. “Not since he closed up around seven, dear. He and his friends had plans tonight. It’s really about time he gets out of that bakery. He spends far too much time at work, if you ask me.” She eyed him again, frown tugging at her lips. “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? A scone? Leonard makes the best scones, you know.”

 

Barry sighed. “I know.” He shook his head. “No, thanks. I should be getting home.”

 

“Would you like me to tell Leonard you stopped by?”

 

“No, that’s okay,” he stated quickly, actually hoping she wouldn’t. “I’ll, uh, just catch up with him later.”

 

“Oh, alright. If you’re sure,” she stated slowly, offering a kind smile that Barry couldn’t help but return. “By the way, you might want to see someone about that temper of yours. All that anger is bad for you.”

 

Barry flushed and huffed a good-natured laugh. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks. Have a good night, Mrs. Bourque.”

 

“Oh, call me Delilah.”

 

“Delilah,” Barry echoed.

 

“Goodnight, dear,” she muttered, offering a small wave before heading back inside.

 

Once she was out of sight, Barry hit his fist against the door of the bakery and bit back a scream of frustration. He was so angry at Len for what he’d done to the lab. He was so frustrated that Oliver had been right. Len wasn’t the good guy he thought he was. Barry would have to do a lot more than ask questions to get Len to admit that.

 

He really wished Oliver hadn’t been right about this one.

 

~*~

 

“Take it easy, gentlemen,” Len drawled, pacing the floor of the abandoned warehouse, cold gun dangling from his fingertips. “I can assure you, we’re here to help.”

 

“Are you expecting a thank you?” Nimbus sneered.

 

Len rolled his eyes, stopping abruptly in front of the man. “No, but I do expect you to remember the debt you owe me.”

 

He glanced between the metahumans, not without wariness. He was entirely aware of how easily these men could overpower him. He was, after all, only human. None of them had tried anything yet, but it was really just a matter of time before one of them questioned his authority. Kyle Nimbus might just be that one.

 

When it was obvious that the man wasn’t going to interrupt again, Len continued his pacing. “Now, I know how angry you all are with the Flash, but I’m going to need you to hold off on seeking revenge—”

 

“He kept us prisoners for _months_ ,” Mark Mardon growled, hands curling into fists. “He helped that cop kill my brother.”

 

And that...well, that was interesting. That wasn’t something he’d known about the Flash. Murder hardly seemed like something Barry Allen was capable of. Clearly, they weren’t as well acquainted as he thought.

 

“I’m aware of your personal vendettas,” Len stated in a bored tone, eyeing Roy Bivolo as he eyed Lisa far too closely. He frowned. “But I have a proposition for you all.” He turned abruptly to face them. “I’ve seen your records. You all have criminal experience and you all happen to have particular _skills_ that I’m interested in.”

 

“What’s your point?” Bivolo spat angrily.

 

“Chill, Biv, I’m getting there,” Len sighed. These metahumans were wearing his patience thin. “The point is, I want to offer you all a spot on my team.”

 

Mardon snorted. “And what team would that be?”

 

Len turned a sharp eye on him. “A crime team.”

 

“What’s in it for us?” Mardon questioned, earning a nod from Bivolo.

 

“Obviously, you'd all get a share of the profit.” When they didn’t look convinced, Len sighed. “And you can keep whatever additional items you steal.”

 

“Why get only a share when we can do this on our own for all the profit?” Bivolo questioned with a tilt of his head.

 

Len smirked, having anticipated the question. “I have no doubt you could all do this on your own, but imagine what you could do as a team. You’d be able to steal more items, get each job done quickly, and have backup in case things go south.”

 

“I don’t do teams,” Nimbus interrupted, voice low.

 

Len regarded him with an annoyed wariness. The Mist was going to be a problem. He shrugged. “If you’re in, you’re in. But if you’re out…” His finger flexed on the trigger of his cold gun. “You better speak up now.”

 

Nimbus smirked, dark eyes dancing mischievously. “I’m out.”

 

The man’s body wavered, shimmering before dissolving into a green gas, and Len didn't waste any time in lifting his gun. He fired the cold ray at the mist, watching small ice crystals form and clatter to the floor like freezing rain.

 

He lifted his finger off the trigger and titled his head to the side, observing his handiwork. Normally, he wouldn’t resort to murder, but the meta had irritated him. He’d been too unstable. Len couldn’t take any chances.

 

He glanced at the other two metas. “Anyone else want out?”

 

Mardon and Bivolo exchanged looks, communicating silently, which didn’t go unnoticed by Len.

 

“When do we start?” Mardon questioned, turning his attention back to Len.

 

“Tonight,” Len stated simply. He smirked and glanced around at his team. His sister was standing close by, watching the men with reasonable suspicion. Beside her were two of the women from her biker gang, Sara Lance and Shawna Baez. Len was incredibly pleased to hear that Shawna Baez was also a metahuman, one Lisa had helped escape from Central City after she’d helped break her boyfriend out of jail. From what his sister said, Shawna was far from heartless and he was glad to hear it. She would add a nice balance to their team. Behind them, Mick leaned against the wall, staring off into space while Hartley jabbered on.

 

Len refrained from rolling his eyes. He’d been lucky to stumble upon someone who knew the kid in Starling. It had been one of Len’s contacts, a man he sold a painting to, that mentioned Hartley Rathaway could supply him with weapons like the cold gun strapped to his hip.

 

Len had to admit, the kid had delivered, but he was brilliant in the most annoying ways. He was cocky and self-assured. He made Len’s blood boil at times, but he was useful. He would be a good addition to the team.

 

He smirked and rolled out the floor plans of the museum. “Gather 'round, team. It’s time to show this city what we can do.”

 

~*~

 

Barry was tired. He was tired and he was angry and he was tired of being angry. It had been a week since Len broke the metahumans out of S.T.A.R. Labs and they had been making things especially difficult for him lately. Not only did he have a large number of cases to process at the precinct during the day, but he also had a number of calls as the Flash during the night. There were some days he only got about an hour of sleep, but lately he hadn’t been getting any. As the Flash, he could usually manage to go a few days without sleep. However, it had been a whole week of running around and Barry hadn’t slept at all.

 

“Barry, this has got to stop!” Joe exclaimed when he burst into the lab on day eight of no sleep.

 

Barry had been staring blearily at his computer monitor and jerked in surprise, jumping from his chair and wiping a hand over his face. He blinked, shooting Joe a quizzical expression. “What?”

 

Joe shot him a look. “You know what. Barry, it’s been a week! You’re not getting any sleep and you’re not eating enough. How many times in the past three days have you passed out while out canvassing the city? You’ve been ignoring your friends. Iris is worried sick about you! Which, by the way, ignoring her is not the answer.” He huffed, approaching Barry slowly. “Look, son, I know that you cared about this man and that he hurt you, but you can’t keep letting him get away with this.”

 

“I’m not—”

 

Joe held up a hand. “I know you may not mean to, but you’re going easy on him, Barr. If this was anyone else, you would have caught him by now.”

 

Barry crossed his arms and frowned. He knew Joe was right. This entire mess had gone on far too long. He just couldn’t bring himself to see Len again after everything that had happened. He didn’t know how he was supposed to look at him the same way — if he even could. After everything that Len had done...it was pretty clear to Barry that Len knew he was the Flash. After all, he seemed to have a personal vendetta against the hero. Plus, the few times Len had called the Flash “kid” or “scarlet” were pretty big indicators.

 

Barry just didn’t understand what he _did_ . Why had Len all of a sudden turned on him? It couldn’t just be the whole criminal versus superhero thing, could it? That would be ridiculous. Life wasn’t that black and white. This wasn’t some comic book where villains and heroes were somehow destined to be enemies. In life, there were gray areas. They could still be...whatever they had been. It would be more complicated, but weren’t all relationships? Because that was what he wanted from Len. He wanted an actual relationship. He trusted Len. Or, at least, he _had_ trusted him before he went and iced S.T.A.R. Labs, shot Barry various times with the cold gun, and sicked his band of thieves on him — and wasn’t Barry dismayed to see Lisa and Sara a part of that group, especially after hearing Sara Lance was Oliver’s ex.

 

Things just kept getting more complicated and it was driving him insane. He wanted to run away from it all, to take a trip to Coast City for a year or two until it all blew over, but he couldn’t do that. It was his job now to protect Central City and he wasn’t going to let a group of criminals led by his almost-boyfriend (almost ex-boyfriend?) scare him away.

 

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. “I know, Joe. I’m sorry.” He shrugged, looking at the man. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to this.”

 

Joe frowned and placed a hand on Barry’s shoulder. “I know it’s hard, but sometimes the people you care about aren't who you think they are. Sometimes they do things that they have to pay for. Snart might be someone you care about, Barr, but that doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be consequences for the things he’s done. Sooner or later, he’ll have to pay.”

 

Barry averted his eyes to the floor, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. I have to stop him.”

 

Joe squeezed his shoulder. “You’re the only one who can. Just remember, you don’t have to do this alone.”

 

Barry looked up at him with a sad smile. “Right. Thanks, Joe.”

 

Joe nodded. “Anytime, son.”

 

When Joe left, Barry pulled out his phone and sent a text to Iris, knowing it wasn’t enough to make up for how distant he’d been lately, but hoping it would suffice for now.

 

_Gonna talk to Len. Hopefully I can talk some sense into him. We’ll talk later._

 

Shoving his phone into his pocket, Barry quickly sped his way through the remainder of his work and hoped that this plan would work. Len might not be too happy with the Flash right now, but maybe he’d listen to Barry if he tried to talk to him again. Maybe Barry could talk some sense into him without his mask.

 

~*~

 

Iris stormed into S.T.A.R. Labs four hours later to find Cisco, Caitlin, Jax, and Stein sitting around a whiteboard while Henry Hewitt stood in front of it, marker poised over a hangman’s noose. “Have any of you seen Barry?”

 

Cisco twirled around in his chair, popping a tootsie pop out of his mouth. “No? Why?”

 

She frowned, crossing her arms. “I’m worried about him. I got a text from him four hours ago, saying he was going to talk to Leonard, but I haven’t heard from him since.”

 

“He went to talk to Captain Cold without backup?” Cisco demanded, jumping up to check on the Flash suit. It was still there. “This is not good.”

 

“What was Barry thinking, going on his own?” Stein questioned, getting to his feet.

 

“He probably wasn’t thinking,” Jax shook his head.

 

“Maybe he thought he could talk to him on his own?” Caitlin suggested. “They have been dating, after all.”

 

Cisco scoffed. “Yeah, that was before the hot baker turned into a stone-cold criminal.”

 

Henry sighed, dropping the marker on the desk with a clatter. “I suppose this means we should go after him.”

 

Caitlin frowned. “Maybe someone should just go check on him. It’s possible that they really are just talking.”

 

“Or they’re doing something _else_ ,” Jax hinted with a wrinkled nose. None of them were too fond of the idea of Barry messing around with the enemy.

 

“I was gonna go check the bakery next, but I didn’t want to go alone,” Iris explained.

 

“I’ll come with,” Cisco volunteered, grabbing his jacket and shoving his lollipop back in his mouth.

 

“Should we come with you?” Stein asked, glancing between the two of them with concern.

 

Cisco shook his head. “Nah, we should be fine. I doubt Cold is housing a bunch of fugitives in his bakery." He paused, huffing a laugh despite himself. "Wouldn't that be something." He shook his head. "Stay here in case someone hears something from Barry. We’ll let you know if we find anything.”

 

“Be careful!” Caitlin called after them as Cisco followed Iris out of the building. He wouldn’t lie, he was kinda terrified of the team Captain Cold — he _refused_ to refer to him as Len or Leonard — had put together. They all knew that if they really wanted to they could cause some major damage around the city. They were lucky it had only been small robberies here and there with surprisingly few casualties. The potential of the team, though...that’s what Cisco was worried about.

 

“Do you really think Leonard is capable of hurting Barry?” Iris asked hesitantly.

 

Cisco pushed the lollipop around in his mouth, glancing between her and the sidewalk. He got into the passenger side of her car and sunk into the seat with a frown. He really _hoped_ the man wasn’t capable of hurting Barry, but who could really know at this point? Captain Cold...he wasn’t anything like the man Barry spent so many weeks pining over. If he was capable of being a thief, who knew what else he was capable of?

 

As they pulled away from the sidewalk, Cisco sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

 

He really hoped he was wrong.

 

~*~

 

“Alright, Captain Cold!” Cisco shouted as he pushed through the door of Frost Bites — and under other circumstances, he would have laughed at the likely intentional pun, but this was no time for laughing.

 

Len glanced up from behind the counter, face contorting into a scowl as he finished helping a customer. He offered a strained smile to the perturbed woman until she scuttled out of the bakery. Len turned a pointed gaze to his visitors. “Cisco, to what do I owe the displeasure?”

 

“I think you know why we’re here, Cold!” Cisco exclaimed furiously, pointing the lollipop stick (sans lollipop) at the older man.

 

Len tilted his head to the side, gaze moving between the nerd and the soon-to-be-bride. “I’ve done a lot of things this week. I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

 

“Look,” Iris interrupted, looking between the two of them with furrowed eyebrows. She took a step forward, focusing her attention on Len. “Have you seen Barry? The last I heard from him—”

 

“Sorry,” Len apologized, although it didn’t sound genuine, and turned his attention to a clipboard. “Haven’t seen him. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re not exactly on speaking terms at the moment.” He glanced up at them. “I assume you both know why.”

 

Iris frowned. “Wait, you mean, he didn’t stop by earlier to talk to you?”

 

Len sat down the clipboard with a sigh. “For the last time, no. I haven’t seen him since we robbed the armored car.”

 

Cisco’s eyes widened. “You—”

 

“Know that he’s the Flash?” Len questioned with a smirk. “I figured it out a while ago, kid.”

 

Cisco shook his head. “Then why are you—”

 

“That doesn’t matter right now!” Iris exclaimed, stopping them before they could go too off topic. “The last I heard from Barry, he was on his way over to talk to you, Leonard. Are you sure you haven’t seen him?”

 

Len’s expression pinched in annoyance. "I think I would have remembered seeing him if he had.”

 

Iris’s face fell and she ran a hand through her hair, looking at Cisco. “That means he never made it here.”

 

Cisco’s eyes widened. “That means—”

 

“Barry’s missing,” Iris finished. She shook her head, pulling out her phone. “I’m calling dad.”

 

As she disappeared outside, Len came around the counter to stand in front of Cisco, who managed not to flinch in fear, even though Len could clearly see his hands start to shake. “What do you mean, he’s _missing_?”

 

Cisco stammered a couple of times before swallowing. “We haven’t heard from him since he left work earlier. He texted Iris, saying he was gonna come talk to you and—”

 

“You thought I had done something to him,” Len assumed, shaking his head.

 

Iris rushed back into the bakery. “Dad says he hasn’t heard from Barry since he talked to him at the precinct. Where the hell could he be?”

 

“I don’t know, but we need to tell the others,” Cisco stated firmly, pulling out his phone.

 

Len turned and pulled the apron he had on over his head, tossing it onto the register on his way to the kitchen. “Hang on, I’m coming with you.”

 

“Uh, no offense, dude,” Cisco began slowly with wide eyes. “But I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

 

Len ignored him and made sure all of the ovens were off, killing the lights and grabbing his keys from the kitchen. He snatched his cold gun and its holster from behind the register and quickly strapped it on, pulling on his parka. “You got a better idea?”

 

“Yes!” Cisco exclaimed, spreading out his arms. “You stay here and we go find Barry.”

 

“Cisco, if Barry is in trouble, we’re gonna need all the help we can get,” Iris said softly.

 

Cisco looked at her indignantly, but his argument died on his tongue when he saw how worried she was. He sighed, visibly deflating, turning to Captain Cold. “Fine, but if this turns out to be some sort of trick, I will not hesitate to open a can of whoop-ass.”

 

Len snorted, putting his goggles around his neck. “Okay, kid. You have my permission to sick your team of heroes on me if I try anything.”

  
Cisco nodded sharply, letting Iris pull him from the bakery with Len following behind them. Cisco still wasn’t sure they could trust the man or not, but the look of Captain Cold sitting in the back of Iris’s car and looking so damn _worried_...well, that was an image he wouldn’t be getting out of his head for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me soooo much trouble and that's partially why it took me so long to get it up. Also, I'm drowning in school work. I graduate in a little over three weeks and it's nearing the end of the semester so things are going to get a bit chaotic over the next few weeks. That means updates are definitely going to become more sporadic. I might not get the chance to update until after May because I have so much going on that month. I'm going on vacation shortly after graduation, but it's only for a few days. When I get back, I'll have more time to write (while I job search). Anyway, I'm going to stop talking about my life and move onto talking about the story.
> 
> This chapter was _not_ supposed to happen like this. Quite a few of the things that wormed their way into this chapter were supposed to happen _next chapter_ , but I can't say I'm too mad about the way it turned out. I apologize for the one week time jump halfway through the chapter. I loathe those with a passion and try not to use them, but I couldn't figure out how to navigate the time in between Len icing S.T.A.R. Labs and Barry disappearing. Soooooooo, what do you guys think happened there? I know it's a huge cliff hanger and I'm super sorry about it. That's another reason I was kinda iffy about updating because you'll have to wait for a while for an update. But I'd like to hear what you guys think happened to Barry!
> 
> Thank you all again for your continued love and support of this fic. I would have given up forever ago if it weren't for you guys! You're awesome! :*


	17. Snowflakes and Dismembered Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len meets the infamous Joe West and...well, Barry witnesses something he'll never be able to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A WILD UPDATE APPEARS! WILL FANFIC READER USE "READ NOW" OR "READ LATER"? :P
> 
> A huge thank you to [Joe-Neal](http://joe-neal.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr for being a cheerleader throughout my accidental writing hiatus and to [Lucifer_Luci](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifer_Luci/profile) for making sure I didn't forget about this fic. Sometimes I need a gentle nudge and you guys made sure I got that. :D
> 
> Also, a huuuuge thank you to [Niennavalier](http://niennavalier.tumblr.com/), [mockingbird-22](http://mockingbird-22.tumblr.com/), and [grimm-fairy](http://grimm-fairy.tumblr.com/) for giving me ideas or letting me bounce ideas off them when I got stuck. It was grimm-fairy's idea to have Cisco track Barry via a hidden device. <3
> 
> WARNING: The end of this chapter contains a bit of gore and may be triggering for those who struggle with self-harm. If you feel that this will be too difficult for you to read, please DO NOT READ IT. I will leave a brief summary of what happens in the end notes for those who need to skip past that part.

Lisa was surprised to find the bakery’s door locked and the lights off when she stopped by that evening. She'd just come from Len’s apartment and he hadn't been there either. Suspicious, she went to Mrs. Bourque’s next door and knocked. It wasn't like Len to not be around, especially when he was still technically supposed to be at work.

 

The grey-haired neighbor answered the door, bleary-eyed. “Yes?”

 

Lisa frowned, having forgotten how late it was, and quickly forced a polite smile. “Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Bourque. I was just wondering if you've seen my brother.”

 

She motioned toward the bakery and Mrs. Bourque’s eyes widened, a wide smile tugging at her lips. “You must be Lisa! Leonard’s told me so much about you!”

 

Lisa laughed lightly, tucking some hair behind her ear and mentally cursing her brother. “All good things, I hope.”

 

“Oh, yes! Just wonderful!” the old woman gushed. She eyed Lisa from behind her glasses. “Leonard says you ride a motorcycle? Oh, how I dreamed of riding one back in the day!”

 

Lisa watched the woman warily, struggling to keep a smile on her face. She really just wanted to know where her brother was. “Oh yeah! It's a blast! Speaking of Lenny…”

 

Mrs. Bourque blinked at her absently before clapping her hands together. “Oh! That's right! You wanted to know where your brother was! Forgive me, darling, my mind’s not quite what it used to be.” She chuckled. “As for your brother, I'm afraid you missed him. He closed up a few hours ago.”

 

“ _Hours_ ago?” Lisa asked incredulously. Since when did Lenny close early?

 

“Mhmm,” Mrs. Bourque hummed. “Left with some friends of his. It's really about time if you ask me. After all, he isn't getting any younger!”

 

Lisa smiled weakly. But wait...did she say _friends_? Len hadn't mentioned any plans with Mick or the Rogues. And that only left one other person. She sighed and forced another smile. “Oh, he must have gone out with Barry. Thanks, Mrs. Bourque.”

 

“Oh, no, dear,” the woman shook her head, stopping Lisa in her tracks. “It wasn't Barry. Although, Barry is a nice fellow, isn't he? Such a nice smile, beautiful eyes --”

 

Lisa eyed the woman uneasily, wondering who else her brother could have left with...and _why_. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you happen to know who these friends were?”

 

“Well, no,” Mrs. Bourque’s eyebrows pinched in concern. “But one of them -- a man -- had rather long, black hair. He was wearing some sort of graphic t-shirt. I believe there was a controller of some sort on it?” She waved her hand. “I can't keep up with the toys these days. Anyway, he had a very pretty girl with him. Just a short, little thing. She did seem a smidge worried when she stepped outside to make a phone call. I saw her from my window.”

 

Lisa frowned. A man with long, black hair and a beautiful girl, huh? She couldn't be sure, but that sounded an awful lot like the friends she’d met when Lenny was out of town. “Did you see where they went?”

 

“No,” the woman shook her head. “The last I saw, Leonard got into a car with them. All three of them looked rather worried, now that I think about it. And Leonard -- he was wearing some sort of winter jacket.” She looked at Lisa. “Does that help, dear?”

 

Lisa pursed her lips and nodded. “Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Bourque.”

 

So, her brother had gone out on a job without her...with _Barry’s_ _friends_. She took a second to think about that and frowned. Something didn't add up.

 

Gritting her teeth, Lisa said goodnight to the old woman and walked away, ignoring her yells of “Goodnight, dear! It was a pleasure meeting you! Tell Leonard I say hi!” Lisa barely even heard her; she had more important things on her mind, like the numerous phone calls she had to make.

 

~*~

 

When Mick got the call, he was hands deep in flour. He couldn’t help thinking that Len would have been so proud. Huffing in annoyance, he grabbed his phone and barked out a gruff, “What?”

 

“Have you heard from Len?” Lisa questioned, and Mick immediately stopped what he was doing. That was her no-nonsense voice, a voice he'd only heard a handful of times before he got thrown into prison. It let him know that this wasn't just some friendly house call.

 

“No? He ain't at the bakery?”

 

Lisa’s annoyed sigh told him what a dumb question it was. “No, and I already checked his apartment, so don't bother asking. I think…”

 

Mick frowned, wiping his hands free of flour. “What?”

 

She sighed again. “I think something happened. I talked to his neighbor and she says he closed up early and left with some friends. I think they were Barry’s friends.”

 

“Thought he wasn't speakin’ to pretty boy?”

 

“He wasn't,” Lisa hesitated. “Mick, I think something’s wrong.”

 

Mick ground his teeth together and tossed his dish towel down. “Want me to meet ya?”

 

“It would be nice to have backup,” Lisa confessed.

 

“On my way,” Mick stated before quickly hanging up. There weren't many people he’d drop everything for, especially when he was doing something he actually _enjoyed_ , but when it came to Len and his safety? Yeah, that was an exception.

 

~*~

 

When Joe took Barry into his care, he promised himself that he would keep Henry and Nora Allen’s son safe. He would treat him like his own son and protect him by any means necessary.

 

When Joe first took Barry in, he had no idea that raising him would result in so many gray hairs. From the bullying at school, to Barry’s pent-up aggression and constant running away, to his aggressive insistence that his father was innocent...Joe felt like it was always one thing after another. But he’d been there for Barry regardless, doing the best he could under the circumstances. He knew that he’d probably made a hundred mistakes along the way, regardless of how hard he tried to make the right decisions

 

None of Barry’s troubles in childhood, however, had prepared him for Barry becoming the Flash. Barry’s newly developed powers came with a whole new set of responsibilities and worries. There wasn’t a day that went by that Joe didn’t fear the worst for his foster-son. And the worst always seemed to be lurking around every corner.

 

Except...today was apparently the day that it quite literally stepped out from around the corner.

 

“What the hell is he doing here?” Joe demanded when Iris and Cisco came into S.T.A.R. Labs with _Leonard Snart_ in tow.

 

Len raised his hands placatingly, eyeing the man warily despite being so pleased that the glorified team of do-gooders tensed in his presence. He hadn't met the infamous Joe West yet, but he already seemed to have a patronising air about him, just as the Rogues said he did. Not surprising, given the circumstances. “Easy, detective. I’m here to help.”

 

“Like hell you are!” Joe exclaimed disbelievingly, pointing a finger at the man. “You’ve been nothing but trouble for my son since you two got involved. What makes you think we’d let you help him?”

 

“Because you’re going to need my help,” Len drawled. At the incredulous looks he received, he rolled his eyes. “I assume you have to be pretty strong -- or incredibly smart -- to take down the Flash.”

 

“What’s your point, Snowflake?” Jax questioned impatiently from the corner of the room.

 

Len glared at him. “My _point_ _is_ \--” He looked back at the detective, not at all intimidated by his unwavering stare. “--you’re going to need all the help you can get. In order to _take_ _down_ a villain, you have to _think_ like a villain.”

 

“Sounds like a load of bullshit to me,” Jax stated bluntly, sitting on the corner of a desk and crossing his arms over his stomach.

 

“Language, Jackson,” Martin chastised, but scrunched his nose and nodded in agreement. “But you do have a point. I don’t think getting help from some immoral criminal is such a good idea.”

 

Len rolled his eyes at being called immoral. He wasn’t _immoral_. He had morals -- he had _ethics_ and a _code_ . They may have been different than other people’s, but they were still there. No one got _hurt_. At least, not permanently. Most of the time.

 

“I don’t know…” Iris began hesitantly, glancing at Len consideringly. “We might need his help.”

 

“We don’t even know what we’re up against,” Caitlin shrugged, halfway to agreeing.

 

“How do we know this isn’t some trick?” Jax questioned.

 

“Mm,” Henry agreed, eyeing Captain Cold calculatingly. “He hasn’t exactly proven himself trustworthy this week.”

 

“I’m standing right here,” Len stated flatly, gaze moving around the group.

 

Cisco looked between them all before throwing his hands up. “Guys! Okay, I'm not too thrilled about working alongside Captain Cold over here--”

 

Len smirked at the nickname. That was the second time the kid had called him that and he had to admit, it had a nice ring to it.

 

“--but the more we stand around talking about it, the more time we waste. We need to find Barry.”

 

Caitlin frowned. “Cisco’s right.”

 

“Yeah, but how are we gonna find Red without his suit?” Jax questioned.

 

Cisco snorted. “Ye have such little faith.” Sitting down in his chair, he spun around to face his computer, typing furiously on his keyboard. “Back when Eobard was still around, I was worried Barry would disappear -- who knew what Reverse Flash would do, right? Anyway, I programmed this tracking device into the watch Barry wears just in case something happened.”

 

Len frowned. Why hadn’t Cisco said something _sooner_?

 

With a slap of his desk, Cisco grinned and pushed away from his computer, turning to look at them all proudly. “He’s at an abandoned warehouse near Lawrence Hills. The one closest to the river.”

 

Len ground his teeth together and scowled. He knew that place. Before anyone could say anything, Len promptly turned and walked out the door.

 

“Hey, where’s he goin’?” Jax questioned, getting to his feet.

 

“Leonard?” Iris called.

 

Eddie came in, looking confused. “Did I just see Leonard?”

 

“Yeah,” Iris muttered, staring after the older man. “I think he’s going after Barry.”

 

~*~

 

Barry had never been a fan of tight, dark spaces. Ever since he was a child, he feared that something -- _whatever it was that had killed his mother_ \-- would come after him next. He spent many restless nights, tossing and turning and squinting into dark corners. He was always waiting for something to come after him. He just always thought what came after him would be what killed his mom, not someone he actually knew.

 

When Barry finally woke up, he found himself in a cool, dark room. He twisted his hands, attempting to phase through the cuffs around his wrists.

 

“I wouldn’t bother trying,” a familiar voice advised.

 

Barry jerked his head up in surprise, squinting in the poorly-lit room. “Manny?”

 

Manny quirked a smile and nodded to the cuffs behind his back. “You can’t phase through them.”

 

“I--” Barry stuttered, eyes widening. “How did you know?”

 

His ex gave him an amused smile. “What? That you’re the Flash?” He rolled his eyes, fiddling with the knife in his hand and running the sharp blade over his finger. “With those eyes and that mouth, Barrito? It’s not hard to figure out.”

 

Barry growled. “What do you want, Manuel?”

 

Manuel sighed, turning the knife over in his hands. “I would say I want you, but…” He sighed again, crouching down in front of Barry. “I don’t.” He gave Barry a once-over and shrugged. “Much, anyway.”

 

Barry grit his teeth, struggling with the cuffs. “What do you want?”

 

Manuel frowned, standing back up and gently running the sharp blade over his finger again. “Your help.”

 

Barry scoffed. “Why would I help you?”

 

“Because,” Manuel began evenly, poising the knife over his wrist. Barry’s eyes flicked down to the silver blade before rising to meet Manuel’s gaze. The man smirked. “I hope you don’t have a weak stomach.”

 

Seeing a pearl of blood trickle down his wrist, Barry shouted for him to stop before ducking his head and turning away as he cut deeper. He tried to ignore Manuel’s groans of pain and ground his teeth together, straining against his restraints.

 

“Oh,” Manuel ground out. “You’ll want to see this, Barry.”

 

Barry heard a thump and peeked up, startling back at the bloody hand on the floor. He could see Manny out of the corner of his eye, wrapping his wrist and hugging it to his body. He shook his head dazedly. “W-why?”

 

“Keep watching, Allen,” Manuel ordered, voice already regaining some strength despite the fact _he’d just cut off his hand_.

 

Barry went to glance up at his insane ex-boyfriend, but a movement from the dismembered hand caught his attention. He stared in horror as the limb began to shiver, stretch, and expand, growing first into something resembling feet, then legs, a torso, arms, and lastly a head. He’d seen a lot of things in Central City since the particle accelerator explosion, but this...this had to be one of the creepiest. He looked between the new being and Manuel, the two of them wearing the same expression...and the same face. He glanced over the clone’s naked body and _yep_ , _that was identical too_.

 

Manny removed the towel from his wrist, revealing a fully regrown hand. He flexed his new fingers with a smirk. “Pretty cool party trick, huh? I could always make more if you want.”

 

Barry groaned and closed his eyes, trying to wash his mind of everything he’d just seen.

 

“You're a metahuman?” he croaked.

  
“Is that what you're calling them?” Manny questioned in amusement, then waved his hand, crouching down in front of Barry again. It was then that more clones stepped out from the shadows around the room, muttering to one another. “No, Barry. I’m something much worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who skipped the ending: Manuel kidnapped Barry, cut off his own hand, and a clone grew from the dismembered hand. Basically, HELLO MOB RULE<333
> 
> Soooo, I'm super sorry for the long wait! I got a bit distracted with graduation, a fight with a friend (we've made up, don't worry), and my vacation to Las Vegas. It took me longer than expected to recover from Vegas. Not because I got drunk, but because I was sooo exhausted by the time I got home. I'm never taking a two-day vacation to a place I've never been ever again. We tried to do waaaay too much with what little time we had and I ended up very sick for about a week.
> 
> ANYWAY. So, Mob Rule is a thing. But, let's be real, how many of you saw that coming? I mean, quite a few of you did, right? Because I just couldn't resist throwing Manuel Lago into the mix and you can't have Manuel Lago without Mob Rule. xD
> 
> Okay, so, here's my confession: I had a really hard time getting back into this story. It took me longer than I thought it would to actually get motivated to write it again. I took way too long of a break, but I want you all to know that I have every intention of finishing this story. I just need to rethink the plot and get excited about it again. 
> 
> Thank you all for being so patient and for sticking with this story. I know I've said it a lot, but I really would've given up on it by now if it wasn't for you <3
> 
> Guesses about what will happen next are always welcome ;D


	18. Mob Rule and Team Flash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Cold, Tokamak, and Firestorm come to Barry's rescue...it's more or less a success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mreh, there's a small part in here that maaaay be triggering to those who struggle with self-harm. I tried to keep it as vague (as opposed to graphic) as possible, so the gore is only alluded to this time.

General Eiling was a bastard. Barry knew this ever since he found out the man had conducted experiments on Bette and tried to turn her into a weapon of war. He knew it when the man hunted Firestorm and abducted Martin Stein. He also knew it when he began his insane hunt for Grodd. So, it wasn’t much of a surprise that the man had gained a few enemies over the years.

 

And by a few, Barry really meant a hell of a lot.

 

And by _that_ he meant...well, they weren’t all the same person, no matter how alike they looked.

 

Manny’s clones were unlike anything Barry had ever seen before. They weren’t like Danton Black’s clones that stood still until the real Black needed them or gave them orders. No, these were fully functional human beings, completely separate from their host except for the occasional finishing of each other’s sentences that led Barry to believe they had some sort of psychic connection.

 

Aside from wearing the same charming face that had won him over so often in the past, they all had one other thing in common...they all hated General Eiling.

 

Barry didn’t understand it at first. He could understand why someone would dislike Eiling (most people did), but he didn’t understand why Manuel and his clones did. Barry assumed the particle accelerator explosion affected him in some way, but...Manny had been stationed overseas at the time.

 

“How did you--” Barry had asked.

 

“Become a -- as you would call them -- _metahuman_ ?” Manuel had finished for him, gaze shifting to a couple of clones in the corner as they watched them and discussed memories of Barry. He sneered. “I’m not a metahuman, if that’s that you’re wondering. I’m a _freak_ , Barry. An experiment.”

 

“Who--”

 

“Who else?” Manuel spat, clones drawing closer. “General Eiling has been studying your kind for months. Haven’t you ever wondered why? What he wants to use you for? Use _us_ for?”

 

Barry frowned, shaking his head. “But if you’re not a metahuman--”

 

“General Eiling experimented on me for years, Barry!” the man interrupted. “He tested theory after theory, with no regard for what it was doing to me. I was _sick_ for months at a time, every time my body rejected a serum, surgery, or treatment. And before I could even _recover_ , he’d start all over again.”

 

Barry glanced at the clones, all of which were getting increasingly restless the angrier Manuel got.

 

“And when he finally succeeded? When he finally figured out a way to clone me?” Manuel drew closer, his face dark and angry. “He strapped me to a _chair_ and began chopping.” He scoffed. “You know, at first it was just small things, like fingers and toes. Things that were easy to grow back, but do you think he stopped there?” He laughed bitterly. “No, Barrito, he kept going until there was hardly anything _left_.”

 

Barry grimaced, trying not to imagine it. He knew General Eiling was a bastard but... _this_? Torturing someone for _that_ _long_?

 

“As you probably know, General Eiling is a very impatient and greedy man,” Manuel continued. “He wanted as large of an army as I could supply him. Oh, and he got what he wanted. But he got it for a price. Little did he know that he was breeding an army that could actually think for itself.”

 

“And an army that dies six weeks after its born,” one of the clones supplied, earning a jab in the gut from another.

 

Manuel scowled, speaking stiltedly, “Yes, that’s another problem we need help with.” He got up slowly, leering down at Barry. “And you’re going to be the one to help us.”

 

Barry furrowed his eyebrows. “How? What do you want from _me_?”

 

Manuel smirked. “We need you to take down General Eiling for us. Rumor has it, you’ve faced him before and came out alive.”

 

“Why me--”

 

“We need a way back into base camp,” Manuel ignored him. “There’s a doctor there who can help us with our...other problem.”

 

Barry pursed his lips, still not completely understanding why Manuel wanted him to help with this. After all, there were plenty of clones to assist Manuel in getting back into the camp. Why did they need _Barry_? “And if I don’t?”

 

Manuel’s face hardened, knife skating along the tip of his finger. “Let’s just say I have more clones canvassing the city.” He tilted his head to the side. “And if you don’t do as I say...I’m going to give them the cue to take down everyone you’ve ever loved in this city.”

 

~*~

 

Len didn’t enter the warehouse. He wasn’t so stupid to go in without a plan or at least some idea of what he was going up against. He was glad he waited because what was inside...it made no sense.

 

He was used to things not making sense in Central City after the particle accelerator explosion. After all, very rarely did a week go by without some kind of metahuman sighting. But this...he wasn’t sure what his plan of attack should be. From what he could see from his vantage point on the fire escape, the warehouse was crawling with men. There had to be hundreds of them, a thousand at most. And the part that made him most wary was that _they all looked alike_.

 

He knew they had to be clones, but he had no idea how their powers worked. Could the original duplicate on a whim? Could the _clones_ duplicate themselves? What other powers did they possess? Could they heal quickly? Was it even possible to kill them? Regardless of how eager he was to get to Barry, he couldn't jump through the window and hope for the best. There was only so much he could do by himself, with nothing but a cold gun to protect him -- especially against an army of metahuman clones that had kidnapped his sort-of-not-really metahuman boyfriend who just so happened to be _the goddamn Flash_.

 

When had his life become this complicated?

 

He was a _baker_ now for crying out loud. His biggest worry should be how much yeast to put in his bread and whether he should start making gluten free products (he should, he’d already decided; quite a few of his customers were either health nuts or gluten intolerant). He shouldn’t _have_ to worry about his boyfriend getting abducted by metahumans. Except Barry wasn’t really his boyfriend, was he? Len had burned that bridge the moment he pushed the kid away after their little rendezvous with his friends on the river.

 

He was far too old for these problems.

 

Sighing, he glanced behind him, catching sight of something bright moving across the sky. He squinted, trying to make it out, and was almost relieved when he saw it was one of the Flash’s sidekicks. What was his name again? Firefly? Fireblaze? Firestorm? Either way, the metahuman had Mick in a tizzy whenever he was on the news.

 

Grinning, Len stood up from his crouched position and leaned against the rusted railing.

 

“Took you long enough,” Len called, glancing toward the entrance to make sure the coast was clear before climbing down the ladder and jumping to the ground.

 

The burning man landed on the ground in front of him and another, less luminescent, metahuman landed close by. Tokamak, Len believed the other’s alias was. Of course, he recognized both of them from their human forms he’d seen not too long ago at S.T.A.R. Labs. They were entirely less threatening than they would have been under different circumstances.

 

“Not all of us like to leap into battle without a plan, Snart,” Firestorm grumbled.

 

“You saying you have a plan?” Len drawled, lifting an eyebrow.

 

“We were hoping, with your head start, you’d have some sort of idea of what we’re up against,” Tokamak stated pointedly, eyeing the criminal doubtfully.

 

Len narrowed his eyes at the man’s skepticism, but nodded. “Lucky for you, I do.”

 

“You gonna let us in on the situation, Snowflake, or are you just gonna make us find out for ourselves?” Firestorm questioned impatiently. He scrunched his nose. “What? Grey, I’m not gonna play nice just because--”

 

“Who is he talking to?” Len questioned.

 

Tokamak rolled his eyes. “It’ll be easier to explain later. Now, what are we up against, exactly?”

 

~*~

 

Barry heard the screams of agony before he saw the clones collapsing to the ground. He stared in horror as the room erupted into thunderous bullets that ricocheted off the walls. He curled in on himself, scooting further into the corner while Manuel was distracted, but only made it so far before Manuel was grabbing for him and hauling him to his feet. Manuel pushed Barry in front of him, shooing him forward despite his stumbling, chained feet and weak knees.

 

Barry was a cross between worried and relieved when he saw Firestorm and Tokamak slowly making their way into the warehouse. They stood back to back, shooting fire and electricity at the clones surrounding them, Tokamak’s powers making the lights flicker and momentarily casting them into darkness.

 

“These friends of yours, Barrito?” Manuel asked close to his ear.

 

Barry shivered and tried to jerk away, only to have the knife pressed to his throat when the lights flickered back on.

 

Manuel tsked, turning his attention to their visitors. “You made a mistake coming here, boys.”

 

Jax stopped only long enough to check on Barry, eyeing the knife that was pressed against his throat. “You okay, Red?”

 

Manuel snorted. “I don’t think he’s the one you need to worry about.”

 

The clones fired more rounds from their guns, only to miss when Jax and Henry flew off the ground to dodge them. Barry’s hands clenched, a foot easing forward, eager to help.

 

Manuel pressed the blade to Barry neck harder and pulled him back. “Don't even think about it, Barry.”

 

“Is that all you've got is a knife?” Len questioned, stepping forward on one of the higher platforms. He smirked down at the man holding Barry, tilting his head to the side, incredibly pleased that none of the clones had been monitoring the upper level. It gave him the perfect vantage point. Len hummed, hands behind his back. “Cute.”

 

“Who the hell are you?” the man spat, glaring up at him, even as a few of the clones made a run for the stairs.

 

Len smirked to himself, glancing down at the gun holstered to his thigh before lifting his gaze. He very deliberately did not look at Barry. The last thing he needed was to get distracted. Instead, he observed Manuel’s body language, the way his knife merely sat against Barry’s throat and the way his hand tightly gripped Barry’s wrists. He may have had no intention of letting Barry go, but he certainly didn't plan on slitting the kid’s throat. That was good. Len had more important things to worry about.

 

“Call me a concerned citizen,” Len muttered, stepping forward and nodding toward the scarlet speedster. “That's Central City’s hero you're manhandling.”

 

Manuel lifted an eyebrow and glanced at Barry in mild amusement. “You've got yourself a fan club, hey, Barrito? Never thought you'd be the famous one.”

 

Barry grimaced when Manuel’s lips got too close to his ear, shying away from his touch. He was confused as to why Len was there. He was the last person Barry would have ever imagined coming to his rescue. Then again, Manny was the last person Barry would have imagined kidnapping him…

 

Manuel grinned and pressed a firm kiss to the back of Barry’s neck, gaze flicking up to Len’s angry expression.

 

“Ah,” Manuel hummed. “I see now.” He swung Barry around to face Len, sidling up behind him. “He's not just a fan, is he, Barrito?” He pressed a kiss to Barry’s shoulder, noticing the way Barry tensed. “No, he means something to you. He's important.”

 

Feeling hands on his arms, Len yanked out his cold gun and pulled the trigger, freezing the clones where they stood. He stepped out of their reach, jaw locked. The bastard had been distracting him -- had been _playing_ with him. Well, he wasn't about to play a game of cat and mouse. He was here for one reason and one reason only.

 

He had to stick to the plan.

 

“While you trying to figure out who I am is just _so_ _interesting_ ,” Len drawled, stepping up to the railing. “I would advise you release Barry Allen now.”

 

Manuel scowled, eyes moving from his frozen clones to Len. He tightened his hold on Barry. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

 

Len sighed in boredom, lifting his gun to freeze a couple clones he caught trying to sneak up on him. “I figured you'd say something like that.”

 

Len swung around, shooting at the line of bullets soaring in his direction. He ducked and rolled, freezing fingers poised over triggers before freezing the clones themselves.

 

Barry gasped as Manuel pulled him back and away from the chaos, barely catching sight of Len as he fought his way down the metal staircase, freezing off a hoard of clones. Barry wanted to yell to him, to say he was sorry for keeping this all a secret, to apologize for not fighting for him harder, for not insisting that they talk. But, more than anything, he wanted to yell at him for showing up at all. What did it mean that he had come here with Barry’s friends? What did it mean that he was willing to fight for him? He couldn't...he couldn't just _do_ that. Not after everything he'd done. Not after the hell he'd put Barry through. It wasn't _fair_. It wasn't fair because Barry was so damn relieved to see him and he shouldn't have been. He should be angry. But the only person he was angry with at the moment was his psycho ex boyfriend, who was dragging him toward the back exit while his minions kept the others busy.

 

It was then that Barry finally found his voice. “Len!”

 

Len jerked his head in Barry’s direction, barely able to duck in time to avoid a stray bullet. He growled angrily when it grazed his shoulder and encased the clone in ice.

 

“You good, Cold?” Firestorm yelled from nearby.

 

Len gritted his teeth, but nodded, and if he didn't know any better he'd say the meta actually looked relieved.

 

“Good,” Firestorm nodded, eyes glowing yellow as he swooped through the air and shot fire into the swarm. “Go after Barry. We’ll cover you.”

 

Len nodded once and, with Firestorm and Tokamak behind him firing flames and electricity at any clone that got too close, he ran after Barry, taking out as many clones as he could on the way.

 

Barry was struggling against Manuel, twisting his body around despite his restraints, and Manuel looked halfway to smashing his head against a wall before Len showed up.

 

Len smirked. “I don't think we've been properly introduced.”

 

Manuel swung around, holding Barry in front of him as leverage.

 

Len eyed the cuffs around Barry’s wrists and chains around his ankles. The bastard was treating him like a damn animal. Len’s finger twitched on the trigger of his gun and he squared his shoulders. “Tell you what, you let the kid go and I'll let you off with a warning.”

 

Manuel scoffed. “Like I said before, _dad_ , I can't do that.”

 

Len scowled, taking a step forward, only to stop when Manuel pressed the knife against Barry’s throat again, this time with a determination that made Len hesitate.

 

Manuel smirked. “See, I already know your weakness.” He glanced at Barry. “He is something special, isn't he?” He looked back at Len. “I was special to him too once. I bet he hasn't even bothered to tell you about me yet...has he?”

 

Barry grimaced, wanting to explain, wishing he wasn't _chained up_ so he could just run away. He really wasn't in the mood for the whole _current boyfriend meets the ex boyfriend_ conversation. Not that Len was his boyfriend.

 

“As much as I enjoy small chat,” Len drawled, lifting his gun and sliding it into a lower setting, narrowing the beam to be more precise.

 

“Uh uh,” Manuel tutted, hugging Barry close to him and pouting. “You wouldn't want to miss and damage this pretty face would you?”

 

Len snorted. “One thing you have to know about me--”

 

He jerked his arm and pulled the trigger, casing the chains around Barry’s feet in ice. Barry glanced down with wide eyes and a grin, gaining enough momentum to hit his foot up against a nearby wall, the metal smashing to pieces. Once free, he quickly moved out of Manuel’s grasp.

 

Len’s smirk widened. “--I don't miss.”

 

It had never felt so good to run in Barry’s entire life. After being in chains for so long, his legs were practically singing in joy. Catching sight of Len aiming his cold gun at open air, Barry looped around and ran in front of the beam, raising his hands in time for the beam to catch the cuffs. He slammed the frozen metal against the wall, setting his hands free. He turned just in time to see Len aiming his gun at an irate Manuel and looped around again to tackle his ex before Len could shoot him. The last thing he wanted was blood on Len’s hands ( _had there been blood there before?_ , he wondered).

 

“Call off your clones!” Barry demanded, slamming Manuel face-first against the wall.

 

Manuel grunted, head to the side, and peered at him over his shoulder. “Ohh, Barrito, never knew you could be so rough.”

 

Barry’s blood boiled and he gritted his teeth, barely able to keep himself from slamming Manuel’s head against the wall. The asshole probably would have _liked it_ though. “Call them off, Manuel!”

 

The man laughed. “Can't. They won't listen to me, Barrito.”

 

“What do you mean? They're _your clones_ ,” Barry ground out in aggravation. He felt like all of this was just some sick game to Manuel. Some twisted game that he couldn't help pulling Barry into because, for some reason, he enjoyed toying with him. Of all people to come back into his life, why did it have to be _him_?

 

“They're _dying_ , Barry,” Manuel spat, struggling against him. “They'll do _anything_ to survive.”

 

“Look around, slick,” Len called from somewhere behind them. “I think more of them are dying than surviving.” To prove the point, Len spun around and fired at some approaching clones. “At this point there won't be any left to save.”

 

Manuel scowled. “Then I'll make more.”

 

“Why?” Barry demanded. “Why are you doing this?”

 

“Because he deserves it!” Manuel screamed, his entire body shaking with fury. “General Eiling deserves to die! After all he's done--”

 

“And my friends, Manuel? All those people at the army base?” Barry questioned. “Do they deserve to die just because you want _revenge_?”

 

“My clones will kill anyone who gets in their way,” the man stated maliciously. “Even you.”

 

Barry heard the gunshot before he even had the time to react. He spun around, zeroing in on the bullet, but he was already too late.

 

There was a loud bang and Barry stared in bewilderment at the ice now coating the wall. Barry then stared, wide-eyed at the space the bullet had just occupied, a mere yard away from hitting him. He glanced at Len, who had shot his cold gun at the small target, but Len had already changed targets, firing at the clone that had tried to kill him.

 

Len shifted his aim to the man behind Barry, glaring at him.

 

There was a fire in the man’s eyes that Barry had never seen before and it made him a little uneasy. It almost seemed...well, dangerous.

 

“Big mistake,” Len growled to the man already sawing away at his wrist.

 

Barry grimaced and swore, rushing forward to knock the knife out of his hands. “Manny, stop. Stop! You don't have to keep doing this!”

 

“I do!” Manuel insisted, pushing him away. “I need this, Barry! General Eiling needs to pay!”

 

“And he will!” Barry agreed. If there was anything they could agree on, it was that General Eiling needed to face the consequences of his actions. “But not like this!”

 

“He wanted an army, Barry,” he hissed. “He's gonna get one.”

 

“Oh, please, stop,” Len interjected with a roll of his eyes. “Please tell me you're not buying into all this crap, Scarlet?”

 

Barry glared at him and turned back to Manuel. “Manny, look, I get it. Okay? General Eiling is not a good man. There have been a few times I've wanted to do exactly what you want to, but...killing him is not the answer.”

 

Manuel hung his head. “Maybe you’re right.”

 

A loud bang knocked Barry back and away from the wall as he lost his footing. He looked around with wide eyes, trying to find the source of the noise. More clones were rushing in through a new hole in the wall and Barry balked.

 

“You've got to be kidding,” Len griped, resetting his gun and gearing up for a fight. He was surprised, however, when all of the clones merely stood still, at the ready.

 

“Hey, Barrito?” Manuel asked, stepping close to him. “If you're not gonna help, at least stay out of my way. Otherwise, you'll end up like your friends over there.” He nodded in the direction of Jax and Henry, both of which were curled up on the ground, clutching various parts of their bodies.

 

Barry swore. He'd been so wrapped up in Manuel, he hadn't even noticed that his friends had been shot.

 

Manuel took that moment to make his exit, easily slipping in amongst his clones and getting lost in the sea of like faces.

 

Len’s hand clenched around his gun, but he let them go and followed Barry to his friends.

 

“They've been shot,” Barry stated, glancing up at him. “Nothing too serious, but I need to get them back to S.T.A.R. Labs.”

 

“I'll help--”

 

“No,” Barry interrupted, surprising Len. He avoided Len’s gaze, observing his friends’ wounds. “I can get them back quicker if I do it alone.” He swallowed hard. “Go home, Len.”

 

Len was quiet for a moment, at a loss for words. “Barry--”

 

“Thanks for the help,” Barry muttered, hefting Jax into his arms and speeding off.

 

Len stared at the empty space he occupied and frowned. What had just happened, exactly? He shifted his gaze to Tokamak, who was looking at him in something resembling pity even though he was the one bleeding on the floor of an abandoned warehouse. Tokamak opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a streak of lightning zipped through the room and stole him away.

 

Holstering his gun, Len stood and stared at the door, half expecting the kid to come back. When it was clear he wouldn’t be returning, Len stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed home alone.

 

~*~

 

When Len finally made it back to his apartment, he was surprised to find the light on inside. He paused in the doorway, hand moving to his holster. When he stepped into the living room, however, he sighed. “Lisa.”

 

Lisa was sitting on his couch, her feet up on the beat-up coffee table. She observed him with narrowed eyes, her red lips pulled into a frown. “You’re bleeding,” she observed.

 

He glanced at his shoulder, removing the holster from his thigh and hanging it up in the closet for the time being. He’d put it in the coded safe in his room later. With his back to his sister, he closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, bracing himself for the inevitable prying of his baby sister. “What are you doing here, Lise?”

 

“You weren’t at the bakery, Lenny,” she stated slowly. “You weren’t home either.”

 

“Had something to do,” he explained vaguely and took off his goggles, shrugging out of his jacket and frowning at the hole in its sleeve. The puffiness of the jacket had worked to cushion some of the bullet’s impact, but it still tore through the fabric and nicked his shoulder. There wasn’t nearly enough blood to warrant her concern though.

 

“Something with your CSI?” she questioned knowingly, making him pause.

 

He scowled and turned around to see her with her arms crossed, the same expression reflected back at him. He curled his hands into fists. “That’s none of your business.”

 

She raised her eyebrows. “It isn’t? So when you go missing for _hours on end_ and _no one can contact you_ , I’m just supposed to turn the other way and _ignore it_? Is it none of my business if something happens to you?”

 

“Nothing will happen to me,” he stated firmly.

 

Her eyes fell to his shoulder. “Apparently something _did_.” She got to her feet, anger morphing into concern. “Lenny, what happened? Did he -- did his dad shoot you?”

 

Len snorted because _that_ _was definitely not out of the realm of possibilities_ , but, “No. Actually, it was his ex.” He paused, thinking that one over. “Or, rather, a clone of his ex.”

 

She blinked at him. “How does _that_ work?”

 

Len smirked, collapsing onto his couch and peering up at her. “How much time you got?”

 

She was smiling now, even if the worry was still there in her eyes. “All night. Now fess up, jerk. Where have you been all night?”

 

And as Len began explaining the details, he found that confiding in his sister wasn’t nearly as bothersome as he’d imagined it would be. In fact, it felt good to get a lot of what was on his mind off his chest, especially Barry’s little secret that he’d never actually promised to keep.

 

Not that he would tell everyone he knew that Barry was the Flash -- _especially_ not the rogues, that’d be a bloodbath. Contrary to what Barry’s friends and family believed, he did have morals and would keep a secret if it was important enough.

 

“You idiot!” Lisa laughed, slapping his wounded shoulder and making him wince. She rolled her eyes and got up to get the first aid kit, cleaning him up while she chastised him. “Lenny, I love you, but sometimes you’re such an _idiot_.”

 

He glared at her, sipping from the beer he’d gotten up to get halfway through his story of the night’s events. “So you’ve said.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “This kid clearly cares about you, you asshole, and what did you do? You pushed him away and made things difficult.”

 

He frowned, already regretting his decision to tell her so much. He already knew he was an idiot for how he handled things. He didn’t need his little sister telling him the same thing he’d been telling himself for the past week. “He lied to me,” he justified weakly.

 

She scoffed, plastering a band-aid over his scrape and poking at his arm. “ _He omitted the truth_ , just like you did.” When Len pouted, she sighed. “Look, the way I see it, you both were idiots to keep such important parts of your lives from one another and you _both_ handled it poorly. But that doesn’t mean you can’t work things out.”

 

Len stared at the blank television screen, thinking to himself. He would _like_ to work things out with Barry, but the kid...it didn’t really seem like that’s what Barry wanted. Not with how quickly he’d run out of the warehouse that night. He shook his head. “He wouldn’t give me the chance.”

 

“Lenny,” she sighed, sounding exasperated. “He’s probably confused. You’ve sorta been giving him mixed signals here. I mean, one day you’re antagonizing him and his friends -- _icing their lab_ , might I add -- and the next you’re coming to his rescue?”

 

Len frowned at that.

 

“One minute you’re hot,” she began, poking him again. “The next... _you’re cold_.”

 

He smirked at the pun despite himself, peering at her from beneath his lashes. He nodded slowly. “Alright, alright. I see your point. I’ll give it another try.”

 

She nodded. “And this time? Try harder, Lenny. If he means as much as you say he does.”

 

Len nodded and she smiled, pressing a wet kiss to his cheek that had him grimacing and rolling his eyes.

 

She pushed his head away as she got up, grinning. “Alright, I should go. I have a beautiful woman waiting for me in my hotel room.” She winked. “Oh, and _you_ should give your hotheaded friend a call. He’s been out looking for you. He’s probably torn most of the city apart looking for you by now.”

 

He glared at her. “ _Lisa_!”

 

She shrugged. “What? Maybe if you wouldn’t worry your baby sister…”

 

He groaned and threw a couch pillow at her, which she dodged with a giggle.

 

“See you later, jerk!”

 

“‘Night, trainwreck!”

 

She stuck her tongue out at him and left Len laughing on the couch. He shook his head, reaching for his phone. He wouldn’t admit it to just anyone, but he’d missed his sister. He missed the relationship he had with her. Neither one of them was perfect -- they certainly had their fair share of flaws -- but he liked who they were. He liked the people they had grown into. He was proud of his sister.

 

Listening to Mick’s phone ring, he nearly hung up before his friend picked up on the very last ring.

 

“Boss?” Mick’s worried voice came through the phone and Len momentarily cursed his sister for getting Mick worked up. The man had been protecting him since they were in juvie. _Of course_ Mick would tear the city apart (possibly even _burn it down_ ) for him.

 

“Mick,” Len sighed. “My sister tells me you’ve been looking for me. You can call off the search party--”

 

“We got trouble, Boss,” Mick interrupted.

 

Len sat up straight, immediately on high alert. “What kind of trouble?”

 

Mick was silent for a moment and Len was in the middle of saying his name when the older man blurted, “Lewis is out of jail.”

  
And Len’s heart stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dances around excitedly* IT'S HEEEEEERE! I was so freaking excited that I finally finished this chapter! I knew the entire time how it was going to end, but I didn't quite know how to get there. Honestly, I was having such a hard time with the fight scene because I just _couldn't picture it_. So, eventually, I just switched perspectives and things began to move a lot more smoothly from there on out. Plus, I really wanted to get this chapter out because I _promised_ that if I reached 1,000 followers on [Tumblr](http://areyoucoldflash.tumblr.com) (I'm two away, it's close enough) I would update and make a fic rec page, etc. so I've been working diligently to get this finished.
> 
> Anyway, I have way too much fun writing Lisa's character, especially when she's interacting with Barry or Len. She's just so _honest_ and I feel like that's exactly what her dumb brother needs right now. (Let's be real, that's what Barry needs too...maybe Iris will have to knock some sense into him?)
> 
> Honestly, though, that wasn't how I imagined the fighting sequence to end. It was _supposed_ to end with Manuel getting locked away in the pipeline, but *shrugs*, Manuel didn't want to go. Whether he'll make another appearance in this fic is up in the air at this point. If you want more of him, let me know and I'll work him in. Otherwise, I might just allude to what happens to him later. xD
> 
> ANYWAY! Lewis Snart is back, friends! You didn't think Mob Rule / Manuel would be the only one causing trouble, did you? Especially with so many things unresolved between Len and his father? Pfffft, nah. I couldn't resist including Lewis. After all, he's the biggest influence on who Len is and how Len interacts with Barry. He also is a big representation of Len's previous life...but more on that later. ;D
> 
> Let me know what you think! I love hearing from you guys! I know I say it a lot, but you're the reason this story is still going strong! Thank you for being awesome <3
> 
> The next couple chapters are planned out already and I have pretty solid ideas of what, exactly, is going to happen in each of them, so the next couple updates should come quicker (emphasis on the should, who knows what life will throw my way next?). Thanks again for reading, commenting, waiting, subscribing, etc. xo
> 
> Also, completely irrelevant, but I recently made a [ColdFlash video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmzXyOckPW4) if any of you are interested in checking it out. :D


	19. Pep Talks and Rum Shots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len has an unexpected visitor...and Barry and Len finally talk.

Iris stood fifth in the pickup line at Big Belly Burger. It had been a long couple of days and Barry had been doing a great job of avoiding everyone. The only thing he'd said to anyone was that Manuel Lago was some kind of science experiment gone wrong and that he was going to try to kill General Eiling.

 

After that night, Barry had thrown himself into his work, searching for and killing off as many clones as possible. He went home to sleep or refuel and was never around long enough for anyone to talk to him about what happened with Manuel or Len. And, quite frankly, Iris was worried. She knew that Barry tended to keep everything to himself and keep his problems his own and no one else’s, but she wished he would let someone else in for once. She wished he knew how many people were on his side. She wished he would let someone share the weight of his burdens.

 

“Order 42, two spicy bellies with fries,” the teenager called, holding up the takeout bag. She looked at the waiting customers with raised eyebrows. “Order 42?”

 

Iris sighed and glanced at the crowd of people waiting for their orders, all double-checking their receipts.

 

“Hey! Yo, Snart!”

 

Iris whirled around, noticing a man with black, slicked back hair laughing at two women untangling themselves from one another in the corner of the restaurant.

 

“Chill, Clay,” the brunette smirked, wiping some lipstick from the corner of her lip and snatching the receipt from his hand. “I’m going.”

 

Clay snorted, putting his arm around a curly-haired woman in leather. “I thought cold puns were your brother’s thing.”

 

The brunette gave him a sarcastic smile and rolled her eyes as she made her way toward the counter, stepping confidently through the throng of people.

 

“Snart,” Iris mumbled to herself, frowning. When the brunette made her way past with her order in hand, Iris spoke louder, “Snart. As in Lisa Snart?”

 

The brunette paused, giving Iris a once-over and lifting an eyebrow. “Depends who’s asking.”

 

Iris shook her head, smiling a little sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. I’m Iris West. I’m--”

 

“You’re a friend of the CSI,” Lisa finished for her, confirming Iris’s suspicions. Lisa eyed the detective’s daughter speculatively, humming quietly. “I have to say, you’re even prettier than I imagined you’d be.” Her eyes drifted down to the ring on her finger. “When’s the wedding?”

 

Iris looked down at her ring in surprise. “Oh, in two months. Well--” She shrugged. “--a month and three weeks.”

 

“So soon,” Lisa commented with a smile. “Nervous?”

 

Iris scrunched her nose and lifted a shoulder. “A little? I mean, there’s still so much to do before the big day. I’m more overwhelmed than anything.”

 

“But that cute brother of yours seems like he’d know so much about weddings,” Lisa teased.

 

Iris laughed. “You know, I actually think it freaks him out a bit? Which is unfortunate because I could totally use his help with some of this stuff.”

 

Lisa smirked and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence. Lisa’s gaze drifted toward Sara to see her watching from across the room. “Not that I’m not interested in talking wedding details--” She flicked her gaze back to the short brunette standing in front of her. “--but was there something you wanted, Miss West?”

 

“Oh,” Iris blushed and looked over her shoulder at Sara, who wiggled her fingers in their direction. “Um, no. I just…” She furrowed her eyebrows and peered up at Lisa. “Is Leonard okay? I know he was with Barry the other night, but Barry hasn’t mentioned anything.”

 

Lisa tilted her head. “You mean your friend didn’t tell you how he ditched my brother at the warehouse?”

 

“No, he--” Iris’s eyes widened. “Do you _know_?”

 

Lisa snorted. “That your friend is the Flash?” She glanced around when Iris looked panicked, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to them. She rolled her eyes. “It’s not hard to figure out, sweetheart.” When Iris’s expression hardened, Lisa laughed. “Relax. My brother told me your brother’s secret in confidence. His secret is safe with me.” She paused, then shrugged. “Unless he hurts my brother.”

 

Iris scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Excuse me? Him hurt _Leonard_? Isn’t he twice Barry’s age? I think that if anyone’s going to hurt anyone, it’ll be your brother.”

 

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Please. With the way things are going, they’re going to push each other away long before they even get the chance.”

 

Iris frowned, relaxing a fraction. “He told you about that, huh? Barry tends to run away when he’s upset.”

 

Lisa laughed. “These idiots and their lack of communication, right?”

 

“Order 48! Last call for number 48!”

 

Iris startled and raised her hand in recognition.

 

Lisa smirked. “Look, I don’t know much about our brothers’ relationship, but I do know that my idiot brother gets too caught up in his head sometimes and needs a little push. Maybe that’s what your adorkable brother needs too.”

 

Iris furrowed her eyebrows, grabbing her food before stepping out of the way. Lisa might actually have a point about that one.

 

“I should get back to my girlfriend, but it’s been a nice chat, Miss West,” Lisa drawled, stepping closer to slip a piece of paper into the woman’s hand. “We should do it again sometime.”

 

“Yeah,” Lisa mumbled, staring down at the scribbled phone number in her hand as Lisa walked away. “See you around.”

 

~*~

 

Iris dropped the greasy bag of Big Belly Burger onto the desk and Barry jumped back, looking up from his work with wide eyes.

 

“Uh, Iris,” he began, looking warily between her stormy expression and the food. “Hey. What’s...up?”

 

She scowled at him. “Bartholomew Allen, you have been avoiding me.”

 

Barry winced, wondering if speeding out of the room to escape her wrath would do him any good. Probably not, if her death grip on the desk was anything to go by. No, he knew better than to run away from Iris when she cornered him like this. It never ended well.

 

“Iris,” he sighed, scooting his chair away and spinning around to face his lab equipment to appear busy (he wasn’t, he’d already finished his workload for the day and had been speeding in and out of the precinct all day to search for more clones...oops?). “I’ve just been...busy, okay?”

 

“Busy,” Iris echoed, moving around his desk to stand right beside him. “Barry, you can’t keep doing this. Leonard made your life hell for a week, yes, but he also helped us save you.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to protest. “He was the only one who knew the layout of that warehouse, so don’t even try.”

 

“He didn’t need to help,” he grumbled, fiddling with an eyedropper.

 

“He didn’t,” she agreed and nodded. “But he did anyway.” She observed him closely, mouth dipping into a frown. “Barry, what does that tell you?”

 

Barry frowned, remaining silent, and Iris sighed.

 

“Bare, I know he hurt you, okay? And I’m not expecting you to forgive him just because he saved you and I’m not saying any of this is going to be easy...but maybe he deserves a chance to explain himself.” She leaned forward, trying to get a better view of his face. “If you want a relationship with this man, if he means as much to you as you say he does, you’re gonna have to talk to him.” When he was still silent, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Not everyone will betray you the way Eobard did.”

 

Barry turned his head away from her, closing his eyes, and she squeezed his shoulder.

 

“If you won’t talk to us, then talk to him, okay?” she suggested lightly, her hand slipping from his shoulder.

 

He listened to the click of her heels on the floor and twisted his hands together in his lap, glancing up in time to catch her leave the lab. Tilting his head back, he ran his hands through his hair and stared up at the ceiling.

 

He had no idea what he was going to do.

 

~*~

 

It was late by the time Barry worked up the nerve to stop by the bakery. It was already past ten and he knew that Len should be cleaning up. When he found the bakery already closed up, however, he became concerned.  
  
He rushed to Len's apartment building, sneaking in past someone leaving in a skin-tight, red dress. He forced a smile at her and warily made his way up the creaky steps to Len's apartment. It wasn't like Len to miss out on his evening sales in favor of something else -- even the things he was looking forward to -- and Barry wondered what had stolen away.   
  
Taking a deep breath, Barry raised a hand to knock and hoped that Len was home. He didn't want to have to call or text Len to meet up somewhere. Barry knew how easy it was to avoid those messages -- he'd done it quite a few times before -- and Barry didn't want to wait anymore. He needed to talk to Len...and he needed to talk to him now.   
  
When the door swung open, Barry was almost surprised.   
  
"Barry?"   
  
"Uh, y-yeah," Barry fumbled. "Hey." He held up the bottle of rum in his hand. "Thought we could talk?"   
  
Len eyed the bottle, not entirely sure this was such a good idea. He knew they needed to talk, but the last time they'd drank together...he ended up the only one drunk and absolutely no talking was done. It was also the night Len had shown a side of himself he wasn't ready for Barry to see.   
  
Seeing the hopeful look on Barry's face, he sighed and stepped aside. "Come in, Scarlet."   
  
True to the nickname, Barry's cheeks colored, but he came in anyway, pulling a shot glass out of his jacket pocket and placing it on the table. He hesitantly took a seat and scratched at his neck, hugging the rum bottle close as if it would save him somehow.

 

Len watched him, far too familiar with the kid’s nervous ticks. Remembering his sister’s advice about _effort_ , he sighed quietly. “How are your friends?”

 

Barry furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh, they’re -- they’re good. Yeah, Caitlin patched them up and they’re...healing.” He paused, shifting his gaze to Len’s shoulder, remembering the bullet that had nicked him. “What about you?”

 

“I’ve had worse.”

 

Right. Len had had worse. Because of the whole criminal thing.

 

Barry bit his lip, wondering if he should ask. He didn’t exactly want to pry, but...if _whatever this was_ was going to work between them, he had to know, right?

 

“There’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” Len stated plainly, taking a seat at the table.

 

“Yeah,” Barry agreed, meeting his gaze. He didn't quite know what to say here. He didn't really know where the two of them stood. He didn't even know what Len _wanted_. The man wasn't exactly forthcoming with information. Nor was he very good at acting on his feelings if the way he’d reacted to Barry’s secret was any indication.

 

Barry didn’t really feel like he _owed_ Len anything either. He hadn’t been the one to push him away. Len had walked away on his own without any explanation. Probably because he was scared, he remembered Iris pointing out once. But how much of an excuse was that, really? Len had _definitely_ overreacted...hadn’t he? And he couldn’t forget that Len had used him once...maybe more...and tricked him into going against everything he believed in. _He’d helped Len steal from those armored cars in Starling, even if he hadn’t been there physically. Barry was the reason that Len had been able to go at all_. Barry still hadn’t forgiven him for that. Or for icing the lab. Or for icing _him_ and making his job as the Flash more difficult. Barry may have been getting bored of the lack of metahuman activity, but...that really _hadn’t_ been what he’d had in mind.

 

“Look,” Len sighed, fiddling with the shot glass. “I’m not good at these things.”

 

Barry frowned. “Taking shots?”

 

Len rolled his eyes and stifled a laugh, shaking his head. He didn’t know what he saw in this kid. He was so oblivious sometimes. “No, Scarlet. I mean, talking about... _feelings_.”

 

“Feelings,” Barry echoed, eyes widening. “So, you do...have feelings. For me?”

 

Len gave him a flat look. “Really, kid?”

 

Barry raised his hands. “Hey, you haven’t exactly made it easy to figure out.”

 

“I’m not--”

 

“Good at these things?” Barry guessed with a cheeky grin.

 

Len smiled, but began twisting the ring around his pinky finger, and averted his gaze.

 

“Okay, so, truth?” Barry began, setting the bottle of rum on the table and gaining a bit of confidence. It was good to know that he wasn't the only one that was nervous here. "I can't get drunk. My metabolism burns through it too quickly." He took the shot glass from Len and took a shot before pouring another and sliding it over to Len. "Your turn."  
  
"Hang on," Len shook his head, grabbing the small glass. "So, when we went drinking on our date..."   
  
Barry sucked air between his teeth. "Yeah...I knew I'd get you drunk first." He shrugged, motioning for Len to drink. "I can't get drunk."   
  
At first Len glared at him, but his expression quickly dissolved into an impressed smirk. "Sneaky move, Flash." He downed the shot and eyed Barry as the kid poured another and drank it himself. "If you can't get drunk, why are you drinking?"   
  
Barry shrugged. "Would you rather drink alone?"   
  
It wouldn't have been any different than usual, but Len appreciated the gesture anyway.   
  
"Point taken," he mumbled, pouring himself another. "Alright, to go along with this little game of 'truth''. Do you remember when I told you about my old man?"   
  
Barry furrowed his eyebrows and nodded. "He was a cop, right?"   
  
"A crooked one," Len frowned. "But yes."   
  
"Is he the one who..."   
  
"If you're asking if he's the reason I'm a criminal," Len began, leaning his elbows onto the table. "Then yes."   
  
Ditching the shot glass, Len got up and grabbed two coffee mugs from the cupboard and some Coca-Cola from the fridge.   
  
As he mixed a couple of drinks, he continued, "Dear old dad had friends in high places. He got away with a lot more than he should have."   
  
He handed Barry one of the drinks and leaned back against the counter, turning his cup around in his hands.   
  
"I began helping him as soon as I was old enough to run." He met Barry's gaze. "I was in juvie by the time I was fourteen."  
  
Barry frowned, averting his gaze to his drink. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a father like that, to have a parent use him for his own selfish gain and to ruin, not only his own life, but the life of his children without even a thought. He didn't know what it was like to have a father use him...but he did understand the feeling of being used. Probably a little too well.   
  
"There are a lot of things I've done, Barry," Len explained slowly, watching the array of emotions play out in the kid's face. He was highly aware of the secrets stacked between them, some of which they could approach and others they probably shouldn't. "Some things I can't tell you."   
  
Barry tapped his finger against his mug and nodded. He understood that some things couldn't -- shouldn't -- be shared, especially because he worked in law enforcement and Len was...well, he was a criminal. They were on opposite sides of the law and there were bound to be plenty of complications because of it. Barry understood that it was better that he didn't know the specifics. It hurt a little knowing there was a part of Len's life he would probably never know about, but...he understood.   
  
"Right, yeah," Barry finally answered with a shrug. "There are things that I can't share with you either."   
  
"Of course." Len eyed him for a moment, setting down his cup. "That ex of yours...is he something we can't talk about?"   
  
Barry knew he should have seen this coming, but he still didn't completely know how to broach the subject. "Uh, yeah. I mean, no! He's not something we can't talk about. I mean, we can talk about him. What do you want to know?"   
  
Len's lips twitched down when he noticed the kid's nervous twitch and sideways gaze. A touchy subject then. "Was he always this crazy?"   
  
Barry's answering laugh was a little delirious. "I mean, sort of? He wasn't...he didn't..."   
  
Barry trailed off, feeling a little frustrated. He wanted to say that Manuel hadn't been dangerous, that he had never hurt anyone when they were together, but that was a lie. Barry wouldn't say he was abusive, per se (Iris, on the other hand, had no problem calling him that), but he hadn't exactly treated Barry well either. It was complicated and Barry had never been able to sort through the memories with any kind of clarity.   
  
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Len stated softly.   
  
"No," Barry shook his head, meeting Len's gaze. "I want to tell you."  
  
Len crossed his arms and waited patiently, keeping a close eye on the kid's body language. He could tell it was hard for the him to talk about, that whatever memories he had of his ex weren't particularly good ones, but he was working up the courage to share them. Len felt both concern and respect for Barry for at least attempting to tell him about his past. It was more than what Len had done.   
  
"He wasn't always so aggressive," Barry began slowly, still processing his thoughts. "He wasn't..." He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "You know what? He was an asshole. He was manipulative, he was a liar, and he took whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He didn't care if it wasn't what I wanted or if it hurt me. He just -- he took."   
  
Len's muscles tensed at the insinuation, his jaw and fists clenching.   
  
Barry shook his head. "It took me a really long time to get over what he put me through."   
  
Len closed his eyes briefly, feeling even guiltier for making Barry's life hell over the past few weeks. The last thing he wanted was to remind him of someone from his past. The last thing he wanted was to treat him like Manuel treated him...or how Len was treated as a kid. He didn't want to treat Barry so selfishly.   
  
Pulling out the chair closest to Barry, Len sat down next to him and waited for Barry to look at him.   
  
"Barry, I want you to know that I'm not going to treat you like that. I won't just take what I want from you when I want it. I may be a greedy man, but I'm not heartless." He pursed his lips. "I can't promise that I'll never hurt you...but I can promise to respect you and treat you better. You're not just an object for me to acquire. I want you to be as happy in this relationship as I am."   
  
Barry blinked against the tears threatening to fall, a little ashamed to be getting so emotional over this. It had been a rough couple of weeks though and he figured he was allowed to be a little emotional. Plus, he was starting to realize that, despite all his faults, he was lucky to have Len in his life. And they were finally talking about a _relationship_. Barry had almost thought they’d never reach that stage.   
  
Barry nodded and cleared his throat, placing a hand over Len's. "I promise to do the same. I want you to be happy too, Len."   
  
Smiling softly, Len eased forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Barry's lips, resting his forehead against Barry's. "I'm sorry for being an ass."   
  
Barry laughed a little, fiddling with the collar of Len's shirt. "I'm sorry for not telling you about being the Flash sooner."   
  
Len shook his head. "I haven't given you many reasons to trust me."   
  
"But I do," Barry uttered, smiling shyly. "I trust you, Len."   
  
Len returned the smile, moving his hands to either side of Barry's face as he leaned in for another kiss.   
  
He wasn't sure what this meant for them, exactly. He wasn't sure what he could trust the kid with and what he couldn't, but he did know that it meant something big for the kid to actually trust him. He knew they still had a lot to talk about, that there were a lot of secrets they still needed to unveil, but...they would get there.   
  
There weren't many people in this world Len would fight for...but he would fight for Barry Allen. Every time.   
  
~*~

The two of them spent the rest of the night together on the couch, watching whatever horrible reruns were on TV and occasionally making small talk. To be truthful though, Len spent the better half of the evening admiring (and at times kissing) the younger man’s smooth skin. He had only allowed himself to get this close to Barry a handful of times and it felt nice to just relax in each other’s arms for once.

 

After a few too many shots and mixed drinks, Barry finally went home completely sober around 1am and Len never felt more relieved that he’d changed the bakery’s hours for the weekends -- at least temporarily until he got more help around the place because he _did_ need help, he finally admitted to himself. There was no way he could keep running the place on his own and start a relationship with Barry. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to make an actual effort to be with Barry and he couldn't do that if he was stuck in a kitchen or behind a counter all day (every day).

 

That wasn't even to mention that he still had his team of Rogues to deal with, regardless of how hard they'd been trying to avoid him over the past few days and vice versa. They still didn't know about him helping the Flash out of a literal bind, but he figured it was better that way. It was also better that they didn’t know where he worked (or work for him for that matter, that would be a disaster waiting to happen). They had his number and he had theirs. He just...needed to figure out how to balance all the conflicting parts of his life first.

 

For so long, he'd had it all figured out. It was amazing how one scarlet speedster could come along and change all that. But Barry made him want to be better, to lead a different sort of life. He just wasn't sure if he was capable of that.

 

Hearing a knock at the door, Len rolled his eyes and went to answer it, casting a glance at the mostly-empty bottle of rum Barry had forgotten. “Barry, the rum’s almost--”

 

When he opened the door, however, Len’s entire body went rigid. “What are you doing here?”

 

Doyle grinned and spread his arms, shouldering his way through the door. “What? No hello?” He tsked. “And here I thought we were friends by association.”

 

Len’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his hand around the doorknob, slowly turning to face the cop. “What do you want?”

 

“Who says I want something?” Doyle lifted his eyebrows. “Maybe I'm just checking in on Barry’s little boyfriend.”

 

Len narrowed his eyes and Doyle laughed, lifting his hands.

 

“Alright, you got me. I don't give a damn how you've been or what you've been up to with Allen.”

 

Len breathed evenly through his nose, growing impatient and annoyed with the cop beating around the bush. He would rather the man just get to the point and save the dramatic effect for someone who might actually be impressed.

 

“You're wrong though, I'm not here because I want something,” Doyle began, sauntering closer and eyeing Len curiously.

 

The man’s demeanor was unsettling. There was something about the way he carried himself and the way he looked at Len that just seemed... _off_. Len still knew he recognized him from somewhere, he just _couldn't place him_.

 

Idly, as the man drew a little closer, Len did a mental check of all the weapons he could use to defend himself if things escalated. There was the cold gun, safely locked away in his safe with a few other choice items; there were the pistols he kept hidden in the living room and kitchen, one in the drawer by the couch and the other taped securely under the table; and then there were the many knives he kept in his utensil drawers. If things took a turn, his best bet would be the gun under the table. Doyle would be too ready for a move toward the kitchen drawers.

 

Len rolled his eyes when Doyle didn't supply any more explanation. He knew the man was waiting for him to _ask_ and it only pissed Len off more. “Why are you here, Doyle?”

 

Doyle touched his chest. “Wow, Snart, I'm flattered you remembered my name.”

 

“Clearly you didn't forget mine,” Len sighed, and Doyle snorted.

 

“I have no problem remembering yours, Leonard,” Doyle drawled, taking another step forward. “But enough of the small talk. I'm here on business.”

 

Len eyed him warily. “What _kind_ of business?”

 

“I'm sure you've heard that your dad’s out of jail.”

 

Len clenched his fists tighter. “It might have been mentioned.”

 

“Then I'm sure you also know that he's been looking for you,” Doyle declared, eyes once again sweeping over Len.

 

“Haven't seen him,” Len grit out, not a fan of being interrogated about his dad -- and not for the first time.

 

Doyle laughed. “I know you haven't...but I have.”

 

“What, are you so bad at your job that you lost him already?”

 

Doyle rolled his eyes and took a step closer, closing the distance between them and smirking when Len tensed. “Here's the thing, Leonard. I'm good at what I do. When I find a criminal I don't _lose them_. I saw your dad because I'm the one who helped him get out of jail.”

 

Recognition hit Len in that moment and he had to will himself not to stagger backwards. The bastard was a part of his dad’s new team. He was just like his dad, pretending to be on one side of the law when he was really on the other. At least Len never pretended to be a saint and never took an oath to protect the people he screwed over. At least he never abused those who trusted him.

 

“You remember me now, don't you?” Doyle taunted with a grin.

 

Len stared, wide eyed. “You were visiting my dad when I went to see Mick.”

 

“See, I knew you'd remember me eventually! And here I was, so worried you'd recognize me at Eddie’s bachelor party,” Doyle laughed, shaking his head. “But I knew that even if you did you wouldn't say anything. Because if you did, I would have told everyone _your_ ties to the crime families in Central City.” At Len’s murderous expression, Doyle laughed again. “You see, I know all about your criminal exploits. I also know how close you are to Barry. Can you imagine, Leonard, how much trouble that kid would be in if everyone at CCPD were to find out he was dating _you_? I mean, after they find out who you really are, of course.”

 

“What do you want, Doyle?”

 

Doyle shrugged. “I already told you, it's not about what I want.” He paused, tilting his head. “It's about what your dad wants.”

 

“Why would I care what my father wants?”

  
“Because he needs your help,” Doyle began, wiping some fuzz off Len’s shoulder and not wavering even when Len glared at him. “And if you don't help him...well, I'd hate to think what would happen if all those unsolved cases were dug back up again. I think Barry would be shocked to learn what you're capable of...don't you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, you finally got to find out who Doyle is. You also finally got to see Lisa and Iris interact with each other (don't worry, that won't be the last time). Also, *pops confetti* Len and Barry are talking again! About time, right? Obviously there's still a lot Barry and Len need to discuss, but they at least opened things up for discussion (some things, anyway). They're both on the same page now and they both admitted to trusting each other to some extent, which is huuuuge for them.
> 
> What do you think will happen with Lewis out of jail though? What do you think Len's reaction will be? What about Barry's? Do you think Len will even tell him? Let me know what you think! It'll make me update faster ;D


	20. Worry and Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len goes missing for a few days. Barry is worried. Lewis's scheme doesn't go to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this, rewrote it. Read it, reread it, rewrote it some more. And now it's finally here! Sorry it took so long, m'dears! <3

It was a few days before Len heard anything else about his father’s particular... _ request _ for help. It came in the shape of an envelope taped to the bakery door early one morning.

 

Len had almost laughed when he saw it, but realized it was probably a smart move. Why send a text or make a phone call that could be traced or tapped when a note on the door could be from anyone?

 

Except it couldn’t be from just anyone. Len knew who it was from and he figured he wouldn't be stupid enough to appear openly on Len's security cameras. Not that Len would make use of the footage even if the did. The last thing he needed was to give Doyle a reason to retaliate. Len grew up with a dirty cop. He knew the connections they had and the lengths that they’d go to save their own asses. He had to tread carefully.

 

Heading into the bakery, Len began his morning routine, putting a fresh batch of donuts and muffins in the ovens. Taking a seat at his workspace, he stared at the manila envelope in his hands, wondering what they could possibly want from him.

 

His dad still had the CCPD under his thumb after all these years. They had connections Len could only dream of having and Len was pretty sure his dad had more allies than he was willing to share. So, why Len? Why did Lewis need to drag Len back into this? 

 

Probably to maintain some sort of control, Len theorized. After all, Len could be a valuable asset, especially with the connections  _ he  _ had.

 

Tearing open the envelope, Len took out the letter inside. He stared at it for a moment, frown pulling at his lips.

 

_ Meet tonight. Boxcar. 19:00. Don’t bring your friends. _

 

He turned over the letter, finding it blank, and tossed it onto the counter. A time and a place. How annoyingly vague and to the point. He knew the last bit was from Doyle. His dad wouldn’t have made that kind of threat. He would have just killed them upon arrival.

 

He breathed evenly through his nose and steepled his fingers together. If he was going to do this, he had to do it right.

 

~*~

 

Barry swung by the bakery on his way home from work and was surprised to find it closed. He frowned at the notice on the door that said that the baker was out and the place would be closed until further notice.

 

Scratching at the back of his head, he looked closer at the note and saw the words “everything is fine, just away on business” in fine print at the bottom and his frown deepened. Len had gone away on business and hadn't told him? Better yet, he hadn't  _ asked him _ to look after the place?

 

Maybe Barry could sort of understand with what happened the last time, but...no, maybe this was for the best. Barry didn't need to know about this part of Len’s life. He didn't  _ need  _ to know what Len was up to at all times of the day.

 

Barry had his own things to worry about anyway. This was just one less thing on his list.

 

Except Barry  was worried, especially over the next few days when he still hadn't heard anything from Len or seen any new notices about the bakery opening up again. Had he  _ left _ ? Barry had thought the two of them were past the whole running away thing. He'd thought they'd made progress.

 

“Are you sure he's not scared again?” Caitlin asked as she watched Barry pace around the room.

 

Cisco sighed. “Maybe I should change his name to Katy Perry.”

 

Barry and Caitlin gave him a blank look.

 

“You know, because one minute he's hot and then he's cold?" When they didn't laugh, he sunk back in his chair and slurped at his slushy, grumbling, "I thought it was funny."

 

“Look, Barry, this guy has been giving you the runaround for weeks,” Jax pointed out. “Maybe it's time to face the facts. He's nothing but a criminal."   
  
“No, we were making progress. We talked.” Barry insisted, but he was starting to doubt himself. He shook his head. “None of this makes sense.”

  
"How sober was he when you talked?" Jax argued.   
  
Barry fell silent, thinking about that. Jax did have a point. Len hadn't exactly been sober when they'd last seen each other, but Barry didn't think he'd been too drunk to be entirely unaware of what he was saying. 

 

“I don't know. Something doesn't feel right." Barry sighed.

  
"I could call Lisa, see if she's heard from him?" Iris suggested, and Barry nodded. Honestly, they didn't have very many options. Barry had already tried calling and texting, and he'd already stopped by all the places Len was known to frequent. As far as he knew, no one had seen or heard from him in days, not even Mrs. Bourque, who had stopped him the last time he'd checked the bakery to ask if Len was okay.

 

Barry didn't have an answer for her. He just knew this wasn't like Len. He wouldn't just disappear and leave his bakery unattended. He had customers that relied on him; he valued their business more than he valued his own sleeping schedule.

 

No, something was definitely wrong.

 

~*~

 

When Lisa got the phone call from Iris, she immediately assumed it was about their idiot brothers (or the wedding that Lisa had very subtly offered to help with). What she wasn’t expecting, however, was a worried Iris. A worried Iris concerned about  _ Lenny _ .

 

“What do you mean he’s  _ missing _ ?” Lisa demanded, pointedly ignoring Sara as the blonde sat up straight in bed, hair falling over her bare shoulder.

 

Iris sighed. “Look, we’re not sure if he’s  _ missing _ , but it’s not like him to just leave without telling anyone...or to just close the bakery like this.”

 

“What did your idiot brother do now?” Lisa ground out, throwing the covers off her and slipping into a black tank top.

 

“He didn’t do anything,” Iris stated defensively. “Actually, he says he worked things out with Leonard, which makes this whole thing even weirder.”

 

Lisa didn’t like this. She knew Iris was right, that something was  _ wrong _ . Lenny wouldn’t just up and leave like that. He was far too meticulous not to have a plan in place. This was too spontaneous.

 

“I’ll call you back,” Lisa snapped, but she took a minute to compose herself, taking a deep breath. “Thank you for telling me.”

 

“I know you’d do the same if it was me,” Iris stated softly.

 

Lisa let out a short, half-hearted laugh. “Obviously.”

 

She hung up with Iris and pulled up her contacts, immediately dialing the one person she knew that would know anything.

 

“Lisa? What’s wrong?” Sara questioned quietly, blankets wrapped around her as she slipped out of bed.

 

Lisa shook her head, impatiently tapping her nail against the bedside table while she waited for Mick to answer.

 

Just as she was about to hang up and try again, he finally answered.

 

“What?” Mick grunted, sounding annoyed.

 

“Where’s Lenny?” Lisa demanded.

 

“He ain’t at the--”

 

“He’s not there, Mick,” Lisa interrupted, already knowing all the questions he was going to ask. They’d already had this conversation once before, after all, but this time he wasn’t with Barry’s friends. Lisa was going to kill Lenny for making her worry this much. “Apparently he left a notice on the door that he’d be out of town for a few days. Is he with you?”

 

Mick was silent for longer than Lisa had the patience for and she gripped the side of the table in aggravation. Eventually, Mick sighed. “I think I know what’s goin’ on.”

 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Lisa stared hard at the wall. If Mick was there, she’d probably have him pinned to it. She didn't like being kept out of the loop.

 

Mick blew out a long breath. “Y’ur dad’s out of jail.”

 

And with that, Lisa’s heart sank.

 

~*~

 

“So…” Cisco began, eyes drawn to Lisa as she stood next to Mick in the cortex. There were about fifty reasons the two of them being there was a bad idea and he knew Caitlin agreed if her uneasy looks at Mick were anything to go by. But they came here looking for help and Cisco knew Barry couldn’t say no to that, especially when it involved Captain Cold. “Captain Cold is with his dad? Shouldn’t we be relieved that we know where he is?”

 

“You don’t get it,” Lisa huffed, only relaxing fractionally when Sara placed a hand on her shoulder. “Our dad’s not exactly father of the year.”

 

“Len told me he used to be a cop?” Barry questioned, not wanting to dig up old scars, but knowing they needed more information before jumping into this.

 

“Yeah,” Lisa rolled her eyes. “I guess you could call him that. Not a very good one.”

 

“What did you say his name was?” Joe questioned, eyeing Lisa closely and already putting pieces together in his mind. If their dad was who he thought he was…

 

“Lewis Snart,” Lisa confirmed Joe’s suspicions. “I’m assuming you’ve heard of him.”

 

Joe nodded. “I’ve heard too many things.” He looked at Barry. “He’s not good news, son. A thief, a killer...and those are only the things I’ve heard about him.”

 

Lisa snorted. “He’s a lot more than that.” She pulled down her shirt collar and exposed a long scar that stretched across her collarbone. “He gave me this when I was six.” She released her collar and crossed her arms. “The first of many.”

 

“Do you think he would hurt Len?” Barry questioned, heart sinking. If he’d do that to a six year old, he could only imagine what he’d do to a fully grown man.

 

“He’d do a lot more than hurt him,” Lisa stated, meeting Barry’s gaze. “We  _ have _ to find him.”

 

Over the next few days, Barry canvassed the city whenever he wasn’t working and Lisa and Mick asked for information around town. So far, they hadn’t found any leads, but Barry was responding to every robbery call they got, knowing that whatever they were planning was something big. 

 

Iris kept an eye on the news, looking for any information that might help. When she heard a colleague talking about an upcoming article, she immediately dialed Barry’s number.

 

“Iris?” Barry answered on the fourth ring, speeding through lab analysis at work.

 

“Barry, I think I know what they’re going to steal.”

 

Barry’s eyes widened and he instantly stopped what he was doing. “I’m listening.”

 

~*~

 

The Neroni Diamond was one of the biggest and most expensive diamonds to arrive in Central City. Its advertised delivery date was a day away, but most knew that was only a decoy for the actual diamond. The real thing, as Len’s father was well-informed, had already arrived a few days prior.

 

“I can’t believe you asked me to come here because of a diamond,” Len griped, pulling his goggles over his eyes and eyeing the security cameras on the outside of the building across the street. He pulled his parka’s hood over his head and didn’t bother to fix it when it sank low over his forehead. He didn’t want to be recognized by the public. He had a reputation with a lot of these people at the bakery and at other establishments. The last thing he wanted was for his clientele to know the man behind the apron was a criminal. He’d shed that identity in Central City long ago, despite still having various connections in the criminal underground.

 

“It’s not just a diamond,” Lewis corrected. “It’s  _ the  _ diamond.” He frowned at Len’s attire. “What the hell are you wearing?”

 

“Didn’t you know?” Doyle drawled, eyeing Len slyly. “Your son goes by  _ Captain Cold _ now.”

 

“You look like a fool,” Lewis scoffed, but shook his head and returned his attention to the building. “You got the gun?”

 

Len rolled his eyes and patted the holster on his thigh. “How could I forget?”

 

It was one of the only reasons they’d requested his help. That, and his knack for time-keeping.

 

He eyed Doyle, uneasy about bringing a cop along. He didn’t know how his father had become so delusional as to trust a cop. Clearly Lewis had some sort of leverage over him, otherwise there’d be nothing to keep the man in line. Len vaguely wondered what the man would be getting out of all this. No doubt he’d be receiving a cut of the profit when it was safe enough to sell the diamond.

 

A profit Len wouldn’t be seeing.

 

He scowled, having to remind himself of why he was helping them in the first place. He was doing this for Barry. He probably didn’t deserve the kid after everything he’d done in his life; Len never believed he deserved anything good that came to him. But that didn’t keep him from  _ wanting _ . And he wanted Barry, in any way that Barry would allow him.

 

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Len snapped as the sun sank low over the horizon. It wasn’t late enough for a heist like this, but he wasn't running this show and security would be tighter in the evening, making their chances of getting away before the police showed up slim.

 

Doyle put on a baseball cap and stuck his gun in the back of his pants, covering it with his shirt. He nodded at the two of them and headed across the street. They already knew enough about the security system and the procedures in place, now they just needed access to the safe, which Doyle would easily obtain from the woman he’d been seeing. 

 

Len wasn’t a fan of using people in that way to get what he wanted, had hated when his father forced a woman on him when he was younger, but clearly Doyle and the old man had less of a conscience.

 

“You act like you don’t enjoy spending time with me, Leo,” Lewis stated, eyeing him again. “Thought you’d be glad to be back in the field.”

 

Len set his jaw and stared hard at the jewelry store across the street, waiting for the signal. He hated when his dad called him that. The name only brought back bad memories, memories he’d rather forget. 

 

When Lewis’s phone dinged, Len took off across the street, aiming his cold gun at the security cameras and heading inside with his old man close behind him.

 

They had approximately six minutes and seventeen seconds until the cops would be here if the security alarms were tripped. He aimed his gun at the lady behind the counter. “I want to see your hands.” 

 

The woman raised her hands and a few patrons began to scream. 

 

He sighed and refrained from rolling his eyes, nodding toward the backroom. “Go get what you came here for.”

 

Lewis patted him on the shoulder, a ski mask already over his face, as he rushed by to find Doyle. He shied away from the touch, feeling himself tense. The woman’s hand slipped down and Len snapped his attention back to her.

 

“I  _ said _ hands up!” he insisted, but he knew it was already too late. He swore under his breath and shot the security cameras, making everyone jump. “Get out!” When no one moved, he emphasized, “ _ Now! _ ”

 

He watched them go and began counting down the seconds in his head before heading out back to inform the others. They’d prepared for this to go either way -- with them having more time without the alarm and with them having only six minutes once the alarm was triggered. The latter would be more rushed and Doyle would possibly be compromised, but Len couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

“Alarm’s been triggered,” he announced as he entered the room to find Lewis with his gun trained on the innocent woman in Doyle’s arms.

 

He furrowed his eyebrows, knowing this was part of the plan, but wishing it wasn’t. He glanced up at the light hanging above them and took the extra pistol from Lewis's pants, shooting at the ceiling. The tile crumbled and the light fell, Doyle barely having time to dive out of the way before it landed on the blonde.

 

“What the hell, Snart?” Doyle demanded, jumping to his feet and dusting himself off.

 

Len rolled his eyes, grabbing the diamond out of the open safe and shoving it into Doyle’s hands. He glanced at the woman at his feet. She was out cold, but still breathing. He stashed the gun away in his parka and headed for the door. “Let’s go.”

 

"Four minutes and twelve seconds," Len muttered, and they picked up the pace when they heard sirens in the distance.

 

Len was running down the hallway when he suddenly felt himself fall backwards. Instead of landing on the floor, however, he felt his back slam against the wall. He blinked and lowered his goggles, meeting Barry’s gaze.

 

Barry smirked and Len nearly did the same before he heard his father’s voice.

 

“I thought you said we had time,” Lewis barked.

 

Len struggled against Barry’s hold and growled, “Didn’t factor scarlet boy wonder into the equation.”

 

“Bullshit. What did I warn you about, Leonard?” Doyle swore, and Barry’s eyes widened in recognition.

 

Doyle raised his gun and Barry quickly dodged the bullet shot at him, falling to the floor. He contemplated jumping back up, but took a moment to play dead instead. What was  _ Doyle _ doing here? Was he helping Lewis? But  _ why _ ? And what did he mean about warning Len?

 

Barry looked up in time to see Lewis’s gun on him, but his gaze on Len. He glanced up and saw Len’s cold gun aimed at his father, a cold and detached look in his eyes. Barry shivered, having never seen Len look so... _ angry _ . 

 

“He’s already dead,” Len ground out, knowing full-well that Barry was faking. The fact that he  _ could have been _ dead aggravated him though. This wasn’t how it was meant to happen. Nobody was supposed to get hurt. Especially Barry.

 

“He’s one of those  _ freaks _ ,” Lewis hissed, and Len’s hand curled into a fist. “We can’t be too careful.”

 

“Shoot him again and the deal’s off,” Len threatened, finger flexing over the trigger.

 

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me?” Lewis laughed. “You don’t have the stomach for it.”

 

Len narrowed his eyes. “Don’t test me.”

 

Before Len could do anything stupid, Barry jumped to his feet and tackled Lewis to the ground before looping back and tackling Len just as Doyle’s gun went off.

 

Barry’s chest heaved as he turned around, blocking Len from Doyle’s view. He blurred his face and vocal chords as he spoke, “Give it up, Doyle. Cops will be here any minute.”

 

Doyle kept his gun on the Flash and quirked an eyebrow. “Huh, so you know who I am, do you?”

 

“Of course I do,” Barry covered. “You don’t think I know the cops of this city as well as I know the criminals?”

 

“And yet you’re protecting one of the criminals,” Doyle nodded toward Len and tilted his head, eyeing him suspiciously.

 

Barry slowly got to his feet, raising his hands. “I don’t want anyone to die today.”

 

Doyle scoffed. “You think you’re so morally righteous. You’d really let a criminal go free?”

 

Barry shook his head. “No, but I wouldn’t kill them.”

 

Lewis groaned and rubbed his head, eyes going to the diamond Doyle had dropped in all the commotion. He reached for it during Doyle and Barry’s exchange, but Doyle caught him. He slammed his boot down on the man’s hand, making him cry out.

 

“Going somewhere with that, Snart?” Doyle questioned.

 

“Was under the impression it was mine now,” Lewis ground out, trying to pull his hand free from underneath Doyle’s weight.

 

Doyle laughed. “Oh no, I did the most work here. That diamond is  _ mine _ .”

 

“You wouldn’t know the first thing about sellin’ it,” Lewis argued.

 

Barry glanced back at Len, whose lips were in a firm line. They met each other’s gaze and Len nodded in thanks. Barry smiled, keeping an eye on the others while he slowly stooped down. “Ready to get out of here?”

 

“Please,” Len grunted, putting his arms around Barry’s neck as Barry sped them out of there. Just as they made it out of the building they heard a gunshot and the police cars come squealing into the parking lot. Barry exchanged a look with Len, but they kept going, not bothering to look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm so sorry it took so long for me to update! I lost inspiration for this story for a while and then got busy with other things, but I did promise myself to finish this story, so that's what I intend on doing! I will do my best to give you guys an ending. This chapter didn't exactly go the way I had planned it, but it's the next chapter I'm more interested in, so I'm not too worried. I've had the next chapter planned for a while. o:)
> 
> Who do you think was shot in the end, if anyone? Do you think anyone got away with the diamond before the cops arrived? What do you think will happen next? Let's not forget they still have Manuel to deal with. *rolls eyes* Don't worry, though, I have plans for him. ;)


	21. Anger Management and Vibrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry brings Len home...interpret that how you will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Smut happens.

Barry wasn’t sure how he was feeling when he brought Len back to the cortex. Relieved, mostly. He was also a little irritated and exasperated about Doyle being involved in all this. He was also a little worried about Len.

 

“You made us ice this place because you had a spat with your boyfriend,” Mick laughed when they arrived, as if  _ that  _ was the focus here.

 

It took a moment for Barry to realize that the last time Lisa, Mick, and Len had been there, it’d been to set the metas free. It was also the time Len had iced the lab out of sheer spite. Apparently Mick hadn’t been informed.

 

“Not that I have room to speak,” Mick grinned, clapping a hand over Len’s shoulder. “But you need to work on y’ur anger management, boss.”

 

Len rolled his eyes and ignored his comment, instead turning to his sister. “Lise.”

 

She smiled slightly, opening her arms for a hug. A little surprised, he stepped forward, but before he could actually hug her, she raised a fist and punched him hard on the chest. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, asshole.”

 

Len rubbed his chest and was surprised, yet again, when she wrapped her arms around him. He sighed and returned the gesture, squeezing her a little. “Sorry, Lise.”

 

“You better be,” she huffed, pulling away to get a good look at him. She gave him a stern look. “You’re going to tell me everything.”

 

A little reluctantly, he nodded, turning his attention back to Barry, who was still dressed as the Flash. Probably more for Mick than for him or Lisa. Lisa had figured it out weeks ago, obviously, but Mick...he might have been a little slow on the uptake. Either that or he just didn’t care enough to mention it, which Len wouldn’t put past him.

 

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” Len stated quietly, and Barry nodded.

 

“You shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” Jax snapped, in full belief that Barry should have just let him get caught.

 

“Didn’t have much of a choice, now did I?” Len snapped back, glaring at the younger man. Normally he wouldn’t have retaliated so quickly, but he’d had a long day --  _ a long week _ , actually -- and he was tired. Spending time with his old man always seemed to drain him, both mentally and physically.

 

Jax rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. Pretty sure you always have a choice.”

 

“That’s enough, Jackson,” Stein chastised, not entirely in disagreement, but not exactly of the same mind either.

 

“What? I’m just sayin’--” Jax began, but Barry shut him up with a glare. He sunk down in his chair, waving them off. “Whatever.”

 

Barry turned back to Len. “Do you want me to take you home?”

 

Len eyed him warily. “You mean…” 

 

He waved vaguely at Barry’s legs. He wasn’t so sure how he felt about the whole  _ running at the speed of sound _ thing. It definitely did a number on his stomach. Then again, he was tired and it sure beat walking or catching a ride on the back of Lisa’s motorcycle.

 

He sighed. “Why not?”

 

Barry grinned and wrapped an arm around him, waving cheekily at Caitlin and Cisco before disappearing with Len in tow.

 

By the time they got to Len’s building, unlocked the front door, and headed up the stairs to his apartment, Barry had a text waiting for him from Joe. Safely inside, Barry removed his cowl and read the text. Apparently, Lewis Snart had been taken to a hospital with a bullet to the chest, but had been announced dead on arrival. Doyle, however, had been arrested for theft and murder.

 

Barry repeated the news to Len, eyeing him to gauge his reaction.

 

Len merely took off his goggles and his parka, depositing them and his cold gun in his room. He turned to Barry as he removed his gloves. “Are you staying the night?”

 

Barry raised his eyebrows, eyes searching Len’s. He wasn’t sure what he was searching for. Answers, maybe? Some kind of sign that Len wasn’t okay? He’d just been told that his father was dead and that Doyle had been arrested. Shouldn’t he feel... _ something _ ? “Do you want me to?”

 

Len shrugged, toeing off his boots. “I don’t care either way.”

 

Barry couldn’t tell if it was a lie. He couldn’t tell  _ anything  _ from the way Len was acting. It was almost like Len had switched himself off for the time being, as if the wall between them had suddenly gone back up and had actually grown a little taller.

 

Barry shook his head and approached him. “Len, talk to me.”

 

“What do you want me to say, Barry?” Len snapped, and for the first time Barry could actually see how tired he was, could see how dim his blue eyes were in comparison to how they usually were. Barry feared more happened with Lewis than Len was willing to share.

 

Len went to his room and removed his black turtleneck, quickly slipping into a t-shirt and unbuttoning his pants. “My dad is dead, Barry. None of it matters anymore.”

 

“None of it--” Barry shook his head. “Of course it matters! He’s your dad! And the fact that he’s dead doesn’t erase whatever he did in the past few days.”

 

Len nodded, slipping into a pair of sweatpants and turning to him. “Are you going to sleep in that?”

 

Barry threw up his hands. “Len!”

 

“Barry!” Len threw back. “Look, you’re right. My dad is dead and it doesn’t erase the things he’s done, which is precisely why it  _ doesn’t matter _ .”

 

Barry furrowed his eyebrows, the fight leaving him in a huff of breath. He didn’t understand what Len meant, but maybe it was because he’d never been in Len’s position before. He’d always had a good relationship with his parents, had always known they were good people, even when the world believed otherwise. But Len? Len didn’t have that. He had an asshole for a father who manipulated and conned people into doing his dirty work for him. And his mother...well, Barry knew even less about her.

 

He sighed and pulled at the zipper on his suit, pulling it off his shoulders and pausing. He scratched at the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Uh…”

 

Len raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming freely over the kid’s chest and abs until he reached... _ oh _ . Len couldn’t help the smirk that curled at his lips when he realized the kid went commando in his suit. He grabbed a pair of sweats from his dresser, tossing them Barry’s way. He tried to hide his disappointment when Barry sped through taking the suit off and changing into Len’s pants.

 

Sighing, Len got into bed and tried not to think of the last time Barry had been there. He didn’t exactly expect a repeat, but with recent events, the possibility was always there. When Barry curled up next to him, though, he felt something settle in his chest, blanketing his body in warmth. He pulled the kid a little closer and shut his eyes. 

 

“Thank you, Barry.”

 

“For what?” Barry questioned, glancing up at him.

 

“Being here,” he muttered, squinting an eye open to look at him.

 

Barry smiled, cuddling closer. “‘Course.”

 

Len smiled at Barry’s tell-tale sign of sleepiness and shut off the light, pushing thoughts of the past few hours away to let sleep drift over him.

 

~*~

 

It was only a few hours later that Len jerked awake, pulled suddenly from a nightmare. He glanced at Barry, fast asleep next to him, and sighed. He ran a hand over his face and carefully detangled himself from Barry’s arms, padding softly to the bathroom.

 

He splashed water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked tired, his eyes withdrawn and his face sagging, cheeks sunken. His wrinkles and gray hair seemed to stand out in the lighting and he huffed. He didn't think he'd ever understand what Barry saw in him. He wasn't exactly the picture of youth, nor did he act like it. He was old, he decided, despite how often he lied to himself about it.

 

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he shut off the water and returned to bed, only slightly surprised to find Barry blinking blearily at him as he laid back down.

 

“Did I wake you?” Len questioned, opening his arms for Barry to curl into.

 

Barry shook his head. “Not really. I’ve been in and out of sleep for a while.”

 

Len hummed, knowing the feeling, and eyed the outline of Barry’s face. “Something on your mind?”

 

“Besides what happened today?” Barry peered up at him, the faint light from the window reflecting in his eyes. “Nah, sometimes the adrenaline takes a while to fade after saving someone.”  _ Someone I care about _ , he didn’t add.

 

Len nodded, gaze drifting to the ceiling in hopes that Barry would fall back asleep instead of talk about it. He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to  _ be _ .

 

“I almost thought you were going to kill him,” Barry commented quietly, almost reluctantly.

 

Len knew he shouldn’t have been surprised not to hear any judgement in his voice, but he was. After all this time, Barry still believed in him. He thought about Barry’s words, tossed them around in his head and tasted them on his tongue. He was a little surprised he hadn’t himself.

 

“I thought about it,” he admitted, staring at a stain on the ceiling that had been there when he moved in.

 

Barry shifted next to him, hand moving to his chest. “Why didn’t you?”

 

Len looked at him with a small frown. “I’m a lot of things, Barry, but I’m not a killer.” He tilted his head. “Usually.”

 

“Usually?”

 

Len’s frown deepened. “There are exceptions. Like if the person threatens someone I care about.”

 

He met Barry’s gaze and Barry blushed. “So, if your dad had tried to kill me--”

 

“If he had tried to kill you and you weren’t the Flash,” Len corrected, but nodded. “I would have killed him.”

 

“But he’s your dad--”

 

“He’s a bastard who took advantage of people all his life. He didn’t care who got hurt as long as he got what he wanted.”

 

Barry frowned, squeezing Len’s arm. “If you hate him so much, why were you helping him?”

 

Len weighed his words, tugging Barry a little closer. “Remember when I told you there are things I can’t tell you?”

 

Barry nodded. 

 

“Doyle knows a lot of those things. So did the old man,” he paused, wondering if he should pack up his things and move into another safe house. He had a few scattered throughout the city in case something happened. But the bakery...Len would hate to have to close that up for good. Doyle wasn’t likely to keep quiet for long though, not when he could use the information to his advantage somehow -- get a few years shaved off his sentence, eliminate jail time altogether, get revenge on Leonard. There were a lot of perks to knowing about Len’s past...and even more perks to being a police officer with connections.

 

“They blackmailed you?”

 

“I told you, he got what he wanted by any means necessary.”

 

“Even selling out his only son?” It was a stupid question and Barry shouldn’t have been surprised after what Lisa told them what he did to her. Still, Barry couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it.

 

“He did it when I was a kid, why not do it again?”

 

“He--”

 

“I told you. I was in juvie by the time I was fourteen.” At Barry’s astonished look, Len continued. “Dad was never the sentimental type, Barry. Blood didn’t matter to him.”

 

Barry didn’t understand how Lewis -- how  _ anyone _ \-- could do that to their son. Granted, he didn’t understand how anyone could do a lot of the things Lewis (and probably Len) had done, but using a kid? Messing up a kid’s life before he even had the chance to do it himself as a teenager? Barry didn’t know how Len had turned out so...well, normal.

 

But Len didn’t make it through everything unscathed. His panic attacks and inability to sleep through the night were evidence enough. It was obvious Len had a lot of baggage, more than Barry could even fathom, but Len...he still managed to be good. For the most part. He wasn’t a saint, obviously.

 

“You know I accept those parts of your life, right?” Barry questioned lightly, looking up to find Len looking at him questioningly. Barry sidled a little closer, tucking his head against Len’s chest. Things were complicated, but good. Still good. “The parts you’re ashamed of--” He dragged his finger along the older man’s chest, drawing patterns with his nail. “--the parts you can’t talk about, and the parts you’re not ready to let me see yet. I accept every part of you, Len.” He glanced up with a shy smile. “Even the broken parts.”

 

Len stared at him, at a loss for words. How the hell had Barry managed to wriggle his way into Len’s life? Better yet, how had he managed to wriggle into Len’s heart? Maybe Len really was going soft.

 

As Len pulled Barry into a kiss and pulled him further under the covers, Len decided that he didn’t really care how soft Barry made him or how weak that made him feel. No amount of gold or number of power-highs could make him feel the way Barry did.

 

He was so glad to have the younger man in his arms again. And, as the wall of secrets between them began to chip away, Len thought that maybe he was ready to let him in. For the first time in his adult life, he trusted someone enough not to break him.

 

“Barry,” Len murmured.

 

“Mm?” Barry hummed, slipping his tongue into Len’s mouth, pleased by the resulting hitch in Len’s breath.

 

“Want you,” Len stated breathlessly, hands disappearing into Barry’s hair. His fingers ran through the thick brown locks, dragged down the back of his neck, and explored his shoulders and chest. “All of you.”

 

Barry shivered as Len’s calloused hands skated across his nipples, thumbs rubbing circles down his chest and abdomen. He nodded, grabbing fistfuls of Len’s t-shirt and pulling the older man on top of him. “Want you too.”

 

Len nipped at Barry’s bottom lip before kissing down his body, following the path of his hands. He paused at Barry’s nipple, teasing it with his tongue, and peered up from underneath long lashes. Len smirked when he saw Barry gasping and writhing beneath him, fingernails scraping against Len’s scalp. 

 

Despite not being able to see Barry as well as he’d like, Len was thankful for the darkness and the veil it provided. There was a safety to Barry not being able to see him clearly that Len wasn’t ready to give up, not just yet. There were still things Barry didn’t know about him, about his body, and Len wasn’t ready to share. Thankfully, he knew Barry understood that -- knew he  _ respected _ it, which was a lot more than he could say about some of his previous partners.

 

Continuing down Barry’s torso, Len hooked his finger in Barry’s sweats, burying his face in the man’s happy-trail. He began to pull down the pants and felt Barry shift beneath him, lifting his hips to help. Len kissed his way down, lips touching his pelvis, his thigh, his knee, his ankle. He listened to Barry moan when he nipped lightly at his inner thigh and pushed the pants to the floor.

 

He sat up to look at Barry splayed out for him, blinking up at Len shyly. There were details Len was missing, unable to make them out in the darkness, but Len filled in the blanks by spreading his hands across the younger man’s skin, connecting dots between moles, curves, and crevices.

 

Barry shivered when Len settled on top of him, kissing and licking into his mouth. He allowed the older man to grip his hair and tilt his head back. Len’s clothed form met Barry’s bare skin and Barry gripped the bottom of Len’s shirt tightly in his hands.

 

“Len,” Barry murmured, hands drifting up his back. The fact that Len hadn’t taken any of his clothes off wasn’t lost on him, but he wasn't in a hurry. Nor was he pressuring the older man to do so.

 

Len broke the kiss and pulled Barry’s hair a little harder, nudging his chin to the side with his nose and kissing his neck. “Wanna fuck you like this.”

 

Len sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin on Barry’s neck, making Barry shiver and nod his head. “Okay. Ah,  _ fuck _ .”

 

“Yeah?” Len questioned, rolling his hips.

 

Barry nodded enthusiastically, a whine working its way up his throat, and clung to the man on top of him. “Yeah, yes. Please.”

 

Len kissed him on the lips before working his way down, grasping him in his hand and licking up the length of him. He teased the head with his lips, glancing up at Barry, the younger man gasping and gripping the sheets at his sides.

 

“Ah, Le-en--” Barry squeezed his eyes shut. “Just a -- ah -- warning, my libido is, like, well--”

 

Len lifted an eyebrow, taking him in his mouth and sinking down low. He hummed inquisitively, trying to withhold a smirk when Barry fisted the pillow and his back arched off the mattress.

 

“Ye-yeah,” Barry huffed. “ _ Ohmygod _ . My libido is h-ah higher than normal and--” He swallowed roughly, looking down at Len as he hollowed his cheeks and  _ sucked _ .  _ Fuck _ . He slammed his head back down and pinned his eyes shut. “--m-my refractory period b-basically doesn’t ex-ah-ist.”

 

The last part was punched out of him when Len took him deeper and swallowed, humming.

 

“Gonna--” Barry panted, resting a warning hand on the back of Len’s head. This was going to be over too quick. “--come.”

 

Len choked on his cock and pulled off, spreading precome fast and hard along his length. “Come for me, Barry.”

 

“Shit,” Barry swore. Len’s voice was so wrecked and his hand was moving so fast. He reached for Len’s free hand and squeezed hard as he came, back coming up off the mattress and a quiet shout punching from his throat.

 

Len kissed him through it, hand moving blindly toward the bedside table and grabbing lube and a condom from the drawer. He slicked his fingers and kissed down Barry’s body, pausing to lick up the mess he'd left behind.

 

Barry moaned at the sight, complying when Len pushed his legs to the side.

 

Len glanced up at him. “Okay?”

 

Barry nodded, breathing a little heavy. Just the image of Len slicking his fingers and getting ready to stretch him made Barry twitch, and he groaned.

 

Len slowly worked a finger into him and watched in slight fascination when he noticed he was, indeed, getting hard again. Len shook his head, amazed by the younger man.

 

Barry was equally amazed by the man slowly working him open, surprised by how gentle and attentive he was. Although there was an urgency to Len’s movements, he wasn’t rough or insistent, only adding a finger when Barry told him to and only going as fast as comfortable for Barry. When he squeezed out more lube and added another finger, Barry gasped at the stretch, a little surprised that it didn’t hurt. He reached for Len and felt his chest constrict slightly at the realization that this was  _ so much better than what he’d experienced before _ with Manuel.

 

When Len looked up and saw tears in Barry’s eyes, he immediately stopped what he was doing. “Barry? Did I hurt you?”

 

Barry’s bottom lip wobbled and he suddenly felt ridiculous for getting emotional, but his eyes wouldn’t  _ stop watering _ . He shook his head and allowed Len to pull him into his arms, resting his head on the older man’s chest. “No, you’re great. You’re doing  _ great _ .”

 

Len shook his head, peering down at him. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

 

Barry sighed, swiping at his eyes and trying to stop the unwarranted tears from falling. This was  _ ridiculous _ . He was  _ happy _ , so  _ happy _ that he was  _ crying _ . In the middle of sex. With Len. How humiliating.

 

He pulled away and shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong, Len.” He stared into Len’s eyes, willing him to understand, but knowing he wouldn’t be able to without Barry explaining himself. “The last...man I had sex with was Manuel.”

 

Len frowned, various assumptions running through his mind. He quieted all of them and looked at Barry for a moment,  _ really  _ looked. The younger man didn’t seem upset or scared. He didn’t seem regretful or irritated. If anything...he looked happy. “Did Manuel hurt you?”

 

Barry nodded, hand moving to Len’s face. “But you’re not.” He laughed in embarrassment, scratching at the back of his neck. “I guess I’m just getting emotional about how happy you make me.” He grimaced. “That sounds really cheesy, doesn’t it?”

 

Len’s lips twitched. “Maybe.” He leaned in to kiss him, pressing their foreheads together. “But I’d rather make you cry of happiness than upset you.”

 

Barry’s smile widened and he grabbed either side of Len’s face, pulling him in for a deep kiss. “Fuck me, please?”

 

Len chuckled lightly, nipping playfully at his lip. “If that’s what you want.”

 

“Oh, it is,” Barry stated confidently, squeaking a bit when Len pushed him back onto the mattress and settled on top of him.

 

“Is that so?” Len questioned, pushing down his sweats and reaching for the condom.

 

Barry nodded with a cheeky grin that Len couldn’t resist kissing.

 

He slipped on the condom and slicked himself with lube, pushing at Barry’s thigh and teasing him with his tip. He smirked. “Then how could I say no?”

 

Len started gentle and careful, slowly working himself in and out until Barry was shaking.

 

“More,” Barry whimpered, pulling Len over him and wrapping his arms around him. “Harder, please.”

 

“So demanding,” Len huffed, but did as he was told, resting his arms on either side of Barry’s shoulders and snapping his hips.

 

Barry kissed him lazily, breath hitching and moans spilling from his lips.

 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Len praised, gripping his hair and slamming his hips forward when he found the angle that drove Barry crazy.

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,  _ fuck _ ,” Barry repeated in time with Len’s thrusts, curling his fingers around the man’s t-shirt, head falling back against the mattress.

 

Len kissed his neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. “So good, Barry,” he repeated. “Gonna come for me again, aren’t you? Gonna come with me buried so deep inside you.”

 

Barry groaned, nails digging into the back of Len’s neck. “ _ Yes _ .”

 

Len reached down and barely touched a finger to Barry before he was coming, shouting Len’s name and dragging his nails along Len’s back.

 

Len growled, digging his hands into the mattress beneath him and slamming into Barry, feeling the younger man start to  _ vibrate _ . He swore under his breath and felt a chill wash over him just before he came, riding out his orgasm. He collapsed on Barry, feeling absolutely spent, before managing to pull himself out and roll off him.

 

“Shit,” Len swore, not having the energy to open his eyes.

 

Barry laughed breathlessly, hand finding Len’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

 

“You vibrate,” Len stated plainly, still not believing it.

 

“It’s a -- uh -- party trick?”

 

Len snorted, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close as he pulled off the condom and tossed it somewhere on the floor. He’d take care of it tomorrow. “Don’t ever use that as a party trick.”

 

“Would that make you jealous?” Barry questioned innocently, curling into him.

 

Len just grunted in response, already feeling sleep pull him under.

 

And Barry...well, Barry was more than willing to save his party trick for whenever he was alone with Len. And he was also more than willing to repeat  _ this _ anytime Len wanted. Sans crying, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. This was an emotional rollercoaster for me to write, let me tell you. If you follow me on Tumblr and caught my posts before I deleted them, I was tearing up writing the sex scene. xD It really was not supposed to go this way, honestly. Len was supposed to be the vulnerable one, not Barry, but...Barry still has Manuel at the back of his mind, so this kinda fits better? Ah well, maybe that means another sex scene is on the horizon before the story is over? Which...will be happening soon, I think. Maybe four or five chapters tops? I honestly don't know how I'm going to get from point A (this part of the story) to point B (the end) yet, but I'll get there. The next chapter will be more about Manuel, which I'm sure everyone is curious about.
> 
> Also, if you ever see anything that does not fit or seems off in my story, please do not hesitate to say something. I fully welcome constructive criticism, especially on a story as long as this one. Writing and finishing this story feels like a struggle sometimes and I welcome all the help I can get to make it the best it can be. :)
> 
> Thanks to all of you who have stuck with this story, even through my ridiculously long hiatus. And thank you to everyone who may be picking it up (or opening it up on a web browser, really) for the first time. You're all the true MVPs <3


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